


A Bloom in The Night

by ElvenSister



Series: Bits And Pieces of The Commander's Path [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death, Smut, Swearing, Tongue-in-cheek, Who Knows Where This Goes, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9591749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSister/pseuds/ElvenSister
Summary: Rotten destiny. Others get to find treasures, invent machines, and tell legends. What was Cérea saddled with? She was doomed to dream of two things every night - a dragon and a dying male sylvari. The dragon she had to kill, the sylvari she wanted to save. Not even Mother Tree knew how she was supposed to accomplish that.





	1. Laughter in Darkness

"Can you imagine what it's like to be born knowing that the world is fucked up? Knowing of the pain, suffering, cruelty, hatred, and corruption that await you and everyone you'll ever know? Becoming aware while being in a dream, like a vision of things to come? No, dream is incorrect, I should say nightmare. A nightmare of destruction, horror, and chaos. Of nobility, gentleness, and self-sacrifice twisted and robbed of life."

"Gosh, I never thought about it like that. It sucks to be you, huh?"

Cérea gave the human a gloomy look. She'd hoped an honest answer to his inane question of what it was like to be sylvari would discourage his advances, but she'd clearly been mistaken.

"How masterly put."

"You still look damn good, though," the man said. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm underage."

"You don't look underage," he said and wiggled his eyebrows in a fashion to suggest that he thought he was going to say something funny. "But you could be undermage."

"Thorns take elementalists," Cérea sighed. "You are disgusting, leave me alone."

She cast fear on him and smiled drily at his hasty exit. She upended her drink and leaned her cheek heavily on her hand.

"People are stupid."

"I know that even though I wasn't born knowing that," the human bartender replied. "I grew into the knowledge."

"Lucky you."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that. At least you didn't get your fairytales and illusions smashed by reality kicking you in the nuts again and again."

"Sounds like growing up was a gas," Cérea commented. "Was it your destiny to run a bar?"

"I guess so," the bartender replied and shrugged. "Why? What's yours?"

"Mine? Oh, you know, I need to kill an itsy-bitsy dragon. No biggie. People do it all the time."

"Sounds like your problems are bigger than mine," the bartender said and poured her a drink. "This one's on me."

\--

Later that night Cérea made her way into the room she was renting. It wasn't much but at least she was away from the Grove. Just thinking about the place made chills run down her spine. All that pointless happiness, all those minds seemingly empty of original thought, all those flowers... It was infuriating. It made her want to scream.

While she prepared for bed Cérea thought of the first days of her life. The other races had it easy - being born the regular way and getting to grow into the misery that was life. She'd been born during the night making her a secretive loner. Spot on, Mother! Here she was, living up to her potential! 

Any day now she would be required to acquiesce to the message that had called her back to the Grove for something or other. Then she would have to see again the perpetually smiling faces that had been so confused when she'd fallen to her knees and cried right after her awakening. She'd tried asking why the Pale Tree had been so cruel as to make her thus. All the others seemed so empty-headedly happy and carefree. Why wasn't she like that?

"Your name is Cérea, sapling. It is your destiny to bloom in the darkest night," one of the older sylvari had replied. “Now off you go with the others. Explore the world and its wonders!”

She’d been given a few pieces of cloth that were supposed to be clothes, a weapon, and a magical backpack that could carry ridiculous amounts of stuff without weighing anything. After that she had been left to her own devices. Not that it had been difficult. Caledon Forest was not a particularly scary place and the tasks she’d done to get some money together had been simple.

Cérea wondered whether the other races went about their lives in a different way. How old were they before they were sent out to the world to kill for their living? Not that she needed to be cuddled, but she was curious.

Cérea lied down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She knew what she’d see once she closed her eyes. It was the same thing over and over again. It was her dream, her Wyld Hunt, her destiny, whatever you wanted to call it. The ugly minions of Zhaitan and the Elder Dragon itself. Their destruction was followed by another image, just as strong but very different in color. It was the face of a male sylvari, twisted in pain. It was merely a fleeting image but an important one that spoke to her soul. She wished she knew who the man was. It was probably fate that she’d find out some day. 

She fell asleep thinking about him. Sounds of fighting woke her up in the wee hours of the night.

“The centaurs are coming!” someone yelled outside her window.

“Whoptydoo, what else is new,” she muttered, turned in her bed, and went back to sleep. When were centaurs not attacking Shaemoor? They seemed to have some sort of a time share deal of the whole area. Why else would the Seraph let their freaking weapons stay untouched in bases they themselves were holding?

The next day Cérea explored more of Queensdale. She needed the money and you literally never knew what a given enemy had on them. She’d found good loot from the most unusual places. She also took down a couple of the notorious bandits that frequented the area. She knocked them out and took them to the Seraph for the reward. Obviously the Seraph were made of money and unable to keep anyone locked up for any length of time because the same bandits kept reappearing in the same places. Well, to each to his own, Cérea thought and cashed a second reward for the same bandit leader in the same day. The Seraph who gave her the money had the decency to look embarrassed.

When the evening came, Cérea went to the same bar. They had edible food and company that let her be by herself. She quite liked humans. Not all of them, obviously, but the normal ones. They didn’t dance around with silly smiles and expect every day to be sunshine and butterflies. They didn’t talk to everyone like they were children.

The bar was crowded that night. Cérea had conquered the last free table and was eating her dinner when a new human walked in. He was dressed in highly conspicuous clothes which was what drew her attention to him. He had shoulder length dark hair and a fine form. He got his food and began looking around for a free seat. He saw that Cérea’s table was relatively empty and headed towards her.

“Do you mind if I share your table?” he asked. His voice was rather nice.

“Go ahead.”

He gave her a crooked smile and sat down to eat. Cérea turned her attention back to her plate.

“I’m sorry, but… why is your… pet staring at me?”

Cérea gave a sideways glance at her shadow fiend.

“Don’t mind it, it will stare at anything.”

“And these… puppies… running around under the table?”

“Don’t give them leftovers, they’ll go wild,” she replied as one of the bone minions climbed into her lap. It was comfortingly warm. “That’s some interesting armor you’re wearing.”

“It’s for work,” he replied.

She nodded. “Makes sense. Do you have a job that requires you to stand out?”

“Er… The opposite, in fact. I’m supposed to blend in,” he answered, looking amused. He had an attractive smile, Cérea noticed.

“Depends on the crowd, I guess,” she mused. “Blending in… Do you work for the Seraph?”

“In a way. Are you with the Wardens?”

“Nah, I’d go crazy in a week. I do a bit of this and that.”

“Really? What sort of things?” he asked.

Cérea considered him for a moment and decided that it was worth the effort to keep such a handsome man smiling. She told him a few anecdotes of the last few days. Some of them made him laugh. He repaid in kind, telling some of his own stories of absolutely bizarre cases and what lengths he had needed to go to find out something that had been worthless all along.

“…and there I was, dressed like a Madam, trying my hardest not to break cover by laughing when the minister asked me to fix him up with a woman who looked like his mother,” he ended his story.

Cérea was laughing out loud and even her minions were doing some sort of a jiggle.

“Did you?” she asked, wiping small droplets of sap from the corners of her eyes.

“I did the best I could,” he replied. “I think he was happy. And I got the intel I was looking for, but I got so much crap from my colleagues about that mission. I still get asked to set them up with someone or other.”

“I bet it got old pretty fast.”

He shrugged. “It’s all good fun. They are good people and they’d stop if it really bothered me. Anything that keeps the fighting spirit up these days is a welcome pastime.”

“I can see that. Fighting dragons can make anyone bummed out.”

She’d surprised him, she saw that. Even though undead were numerous, maybe people preferred not to think about Zhaitan.

“You know about dragons?” he asked.

Cérea tapped her temple. “Oh, the thing we call the Dream. If one sylvari knows something important and shares it, we all know it. Zhaitan is definitely important. We can’t just ignore it.”

He huffed. “You’d be surprised how many try.”

“There comes a time when they won’t be able to.”

His gaze examined her expression. “You say that like you know something I don’t.”

“A woman must have her secrets,” she replied. “If you want to know, you may need to find another costume.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not you, too. We wear disguises more often than I’d care, but they work. People put too much stock in clothes. They look at the uniform, not the person in it.”

“Are you two lovebirds going to clear out of here or do I need to fetch the broom?”

Cérea looked up at the bartender who was standing next to their table. The rest of the bar had emptied while they’d been immersed in talking. It was late and the bar was closing.

They got up, making their apologies, and went outside.

“We just got kicked out of a bar,” he said. “That was a first for me.”

“You must be a gentleman to be able to boast with that,” Cérea replied.

“A gentleman who still doesn’t know your name.”

“Cérea,” she said and made a formal bow.

“Ihan,” he replied and returned the bow. “Thank you for this evening, Cérea, it was most entertaining.”

“Thank you, Ihan. Are you simply passing by or do you live around here? I don’t remember seeing you in the village.”

“I live close by, but I was on an assignment for a couple of weeks,” Ihan replied. “I’m expecting to stay put for some time before I need to go away again.”

Cérea smiled at him. “In that case I believe we’ll meet again.”

“I’d like that,” he said and smiled that sexy smile of his. “Good night, Cérea.”

“Good night, Madam.”

Ihan’s laughter echoed in the night as they parted ways.

\--

The following week, Ihan and Cérea met almost every night in the bar and stayed talking until closing. They fell easily into discussion about inconsequential matters and covered effortlessly some with more substance as well. 

That night the bar had closed and they had decided to take a walk before parting ways. After some walking they had found a quiet place to stop at while they discussed work. Ihan had trouble understanding why Cérea worked alone.

“Don’t you feel rootless like that? I mean,” he paused to look for the right words, “Don’t you miss colleagues who’d share your missions and provide backup and company?”

“My backup is rubbing itself against your leg and staring at you,” Cérea said and looked at her flesh golem. “And whatever that one is doing. I can’t quite figure it out.”

“Minion is not a friend,” he said. “They cannot enjoy the trash talk.”

“That is true, but…” Cérea wanted to make the point that when a minion died, she could make a new one, but didn’t know how to put it to words without offending him. He must have lost friends.

“But…?”

“This is an ugly world,” she said. “Losing minions is no big deal. It would be painful to lose a friend.”

“It is,” Ihan replied with a quick flash of pain in his dark eyes. “But that is no reason to shut everyone out and miss on the good stuff altogether.”

“Is that so?” Cérea asked and looked at his expression. “What, pray tell, is the good stuff?”

That was when he finally kissed her. His lips were soft and supple, his touch inquisitive but careful. After she responded in kind instead of pushing him away, he grew more courageous. His arms encircled her and pulled her closer while his lips moved eagerly against hers. His tongue tasted of promises.

Finally breathing became a priority and they had to disengage. Cérea ran a finger along Ihan’s reddened lip.

“If you mean to keep this up, you’ll need some sort of ointment,” she said.

“I’ll add that to the list,” he replied.

“List?”

“After the blindfold,” he said. “I’m going to need that or an eyepatch to get over the fact that your minions keep staring at us while we kiss.”

Cérea burst out laughing. Maybe the world wasn’t all bad when there were people like Ihan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise regular updates yet because my Mass Effect fic isn't finished and I want to complete it before diving into this. 
> 
> Of course, Cérea is the name of a character I play. If you see her around, that's me running her.
> 
> Yes, this began with Agent Ihan, but I have every intention of getting to Trahearne. GW2 is no sprint.


	2. A Summons

Cérea was woken up by a terrible scream. She jumped up into a sitting position to take in what was going on. Ihan was as pale as if he had seen a ghost. Exactly as he had seen a ghost, because Cérea’s ghostly mail carrier had arrived and was standing by the bed, his head bowed.

“What- - What- -“

“Take it easy,” she said. “You look as if you’ve never seen a ghost before. Haven’t you been to Ascalon?”

“We’re not in Ascalon,” Ihan replied. “And the ghosts there tend not to wake you up.”

“They would if you slept outside,” she said and took the message the ghostly hand was holding out to her. The messenger bowed again and faded away.

“Can’t you use carrier pigeons like everyone else?” Ihan asked. “That guy creeps me out.”

“I like that he has found a purpose after his death. Not many achieve half as much even when they are alive.”

Ihan hugged Cérea to him while she opened the letter and read the few lines it contained.

“Who writes to you this early?” he asked.

“It’s Caithe,” she replied. “I have to go back to the Grove.”

“You know Caithe? She’s famous, has been for years.”

“Yes, I know her some. We sort of share our mission in life,” Cérea explained, but her mind was somewhere else. It was a miracle this letter hadn’t arrived earlier. She’d been dreading it for weeks, but also sort of waiting for it. Ihan had been a wonderful distraction, but the memory of her Wyld Hunt had never left her alone.

“You mean your dream?”

“Yes. Our destinies align.”

Ihan laughed before he caught himself. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that speaking of ‘destiny’ is neither sarcasm nor a joke to you.”

Cérea thought of hers. “I wish it was, believe me.”

“So, you’re going home?”

“I’m going home.”

After Ihan had left Cérea made her travel preparations. She put on the least slutty clothes she could find, which was not saying much. She thought she could craft new ones while she was in the Grove. She walked to the nearest waypoint, took a breath and jumped. The next moment she found herself surrounded by greenery. She was back. Thorns.

Cérea summoned her minions. Not because she was expecting a fight, but because she could use the support, even if it was silent. Hadn’t Ihan been telling her that there was strength in numbers? She felt like taking one of the bone minions in her arms and hugging it tight, but decided against it. That would have been too weird. She didn’t want to answer the questions such behavior would bring. She took a deep breath and headed towards Dreamer’s Terrace.

“Hail, Valiant,” Caithe called out to her and waved. “I am glad that you have finally come.”

There was a hint of reproach in her voice. Cérea tried to look suitably repentant.

“Hello, Caithe, it is good to see you again.”

“I have some news,” Caithe said. “Follow me.”

She took Cérea to meet a respectable-looking male sylvari. “Valiant. This is Malomedies, the leader of the Cycle of Night. He is a firstborn, and has offered to speak with you about your Dream.”

“About Zhaitan?” Cérea asked, perked up. Talking about Elder Dragons was much more to her taste than whatever else her brethren were doing in the Grove.

“I meant the white stag you saw,” Caithe said to Cérea’s disappointment. “Such an animal has been seen in the Caledon Forest. Such a thing cannot be a coincidence. In your dream, what happened to the stag?”

Cérea tried to remember. Sure, there had been the image of a stag, but it had been followed by so much more… impressive elements that it hardly seemed to matter.

“I don’t know. I just knew the animal was in danger, and I wanted to save it,” she replied.

“A white stag was seen near the Verdence. Stalk it. It holds a mystery, but beware: what is in the Dream is not what takes place in this world,” Malomedies said.

“I certainly hope so, Firstborn.”

“What we see in the Dream often sends us places we did not intend to go,” Caithe said. “Be on your guard.”

Caithe and Cérea left Malomedies.

“May I ask you something?” Cérea inquired.

“Yes, of course, Valiant.”

“Why is the stag so important? Is it not simply an animal? Should I not be preparing to face Zhaitan, not running after some random beast?”

Caithe smiled which Cérea took to be a good sign. “The white stag is a creature of the Dream, symbolizing hope. It is a manifestation of the faith and joy of our race. Besides, you should not be in a rush to face your destiny. It will come to you.”

“So I fear.”

Cérea almost felt Caithe’s gaze examining her countenance. “You are troubled,” she said. “By your dream?”

Cérea thought what she could say. Caithe was of the Cycle of Night, like her. They shared parts of their dreams. Maybe she was the person most likely to understand.

“I have so many questions that, I fear, are without answers,” she said with a sigh.

“One thing at a time, my young friend,” Caithe said soothingly. “You can start with the stag and move your way up.”

“You are probably right.”

“I often am,” she replied. “Being right gives you less pleasure than you would think.”

“Because you would rather be wrong about some things?”

“Yes,” Caithe said and they shared a quiet moment of understanding.

“Well, I should be off looking for our great white hope,” Cérea said. “Thank you for speaking with me, Caithe.”

“It was my pleasure, Cérea.”

It took Cérea no time at all to reach the place where the stag had been seen. It had left tracks that were easy to follow. They led her to a cave where a male sylvari was getting his ass handed to him by undead. She and her minions took care of the threat.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I am wounded, but I can’t let that hinder me. I’m looking for the white stag. If I let it escape, the consequences will be… dire.”

“Then we have something in common,” Cérea remarked. “I’m also looking for that stag. Have you seen it?”

He indeed had and suggested they work together. Cérea wasn’t big on cooperation, but it would have made no sense to go on alone and leave the wounded man to fend for himself, so she agreed. She took the wounded man, Gavin, to a healer and waited until he was taken care of. Then off they went again to Caer Astorea where the stag had been seen.

“I suppose the stag’s long gone by now,” Cérea said.

“Possibly,” Gavin conceded. “Unless it has found this place to its liking.”

“With all the Risen?” Cérea asked with a raised eyebrow. “A creature that stupid should be easy to catch. Let’s climb that tower and take a look.”

Cérea’s minions stayed on the ground, staring, as their mistress and Gavin climbed a nearby tower. It was high enough to give them a good view of the area.

“There it is!” Gavin yelled excitedly. “It is beautiful! Quick, after it!”

They glided down from the tower and the chase was on.

\--

“What happened?” Caithe was looking at the pissed-off Cérea expectantly.

“That rotten Gavin proved how right I had been about team work,” Cérea replied.

“Who’s Gavin?”

Cérea told Caithe the whole story of the white stag and how Gavin had taken it to the Nightmare Court and left Cérea to die.

“What does he intend to do with it?” Caithe asked.

“He went on and on about releasing the sylvari from the chains of the Tablet. He is going to use the stag as some sort of a weapon against the Dream.”

“This is grave,” Caithe said. “The Nightmare Court believes that the Tree has been corrupted by the Tablet. If they succeed, it would mean that every sylvari becomes a part of the Nightmare. We need to do something.”

“Find Gavin and kick his ass?”

Caithe smiled. “It might not be quite as straight-forward as that…”

\--

“This is pink. Why is this pink?”

Caithe looked at Cérea. “Are you questioning the meaning of existence at such a time as this?”

“I do that all the time,” Cérea replied. “And I wasn’t questioning existence, only the color of said existence. Couldn’t we please go find some Nightmare Courtiers with better taste in clothing? I don’t do pink. It doesn’t go with my minions.”

One of the minions hopped up and down, as if to agree with her. She patted it on the head, if it could be said to have one.

“Good, then no one will recognize you,” Caithe said mercilessly.

Cérea gave the Firstborn a dark look, but changed into the horrid pink outfit the guard had worn. Caithe nodded and they went to see the Nightmare Court. It didn’t go according to plan. First of all, the doorkeeper was so cute and had such an amazing voice that Cérea considered turning to the Nightmare on the spot. Sariel, the big boss, was annoying but easily tricked, which was lucky. They found the stag but were not able to smuggle it out before they were identified as Dreamers and attacked. When it turned out that the cute doorkeeper even had a whip, Cérea had real trouble hurting him. She put him out, but left him alive. Maybe one day he’d see reason. And her underwear.

“Did that go as you’d planned?” Cérea asked when they were escorting the stag to the Grove at a quick pace.

“Along those lines, yes,” Caithe replied. “We have not seen the last of them, trust me. Revenge will follow.”

“Would they be crazy enough to attack the Grove?” Cérea asked.

Caithe gave her a look. “Ponder for a moment what you just asked.”

Cérea thought of Sariel. “Ah.”

\--

“I’m so proud of you, my valorous child.”

Cérea was standing in the Omphalos Chamber, staring at the floor. The Nightmare Court had indeed attacked the Grove and she’d killed Gavin in a duel over the stag. They’d won, but she didn’t much feel like celebrating. The whole scrabble between the Dreamers and the Nightmare Court seemed messed up to her. It wasn’t like they disagreed per se. They both wanted to be happy and to lead the kind of life that would make them so.

“Thank you, Mother Tree. I’m honored to meet you. Was it because of you that I saw the stag in my dream?”

“No, dear heart. I do not control the Dream. I am simply its caretaker.”

“If I may, Mother – I would ask you about my Dream,” Cérea said. “I saw an Elder Dragon. I’ve been told it’s my Wyld Hunt to face it. Is that true?”

“I fear that it is,” Mother Tree replied. “A Wyld Hunt is a sacred thing, a burden placed by the Dream upon the strongest and bravest of my children. Only two of my children have had such a dream, you and Caithe. All sylvari fight the dragon’s servants, the undead, but I believe you will face Zhaitan itself. I also believe you will prevail.”

“What of the other things I saw in my dream? Are they part of my Wyld Hunt?”

Mother Tree gave her a gentle, knowing smile. “They are a part of your path.”

Cérea nodded. Probably she’d know when the time came, though she wasn’t particularly happy with the wait.

“Caithe, I wish for the Valiant to meet my eldest child,” Mother Tree said.

Caithe looked surprised. “Trahearne has returned from Orr? Mother, is that wise?”

“Do not question the Dream. We must all play our parts.”

“Yes, Mother Tree. I will see that it’s done.”

Caithe and Cérea bowed and left the Omphalos Chamber together.

“So… An Elder Dragon,” Cérea said. “Can you tell me more about Zhaitan?”

“The undead dragon at the heart of the cursed land of Orr. Only two living creatures have ever seen him: myself and my brother Trahearne,” Caithe replied. She looked serious.

“Why does it trouble you that Trahearne has returned? Who is he?”

“Another of the firstborn. His Wyld Hunt also draws him to Orr, though he did not dream of fighting the dragon.”

“What did he dream about then?”

“In his dream, he saw Orr as a beautiful land, once more green and fresh… an impossible task. Dragon corruption cannot be cleansed.”

“Is there such a thing as an impossible Hunt?” Cérea asked. Hers seemed like such a one.

“Yes,” Caithe replied. “A Hunt you do not survive.”

Cérea looked at the Firstborn. “You believe that his destiny is to die?”

“Is that not what happens to the majority of people?” Caithe asked. She wasn’t being flippant, she was being realistic. In Cérea’s eyes, Caithe was practically the only realist in the whole of Grove. She stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the smiling, happy people who thought that every day was fabulous. The reason for this was dawning on Cérea – everyone else had left, just like her. They could feel the sunniness and optimism grating on their teeth.

“I cannot help but wonder something, Caithe,” Cérea began.

“Why all the light armor is so slutty?” Caithe suggested.

“Yes,” Cérea admitted. “And why you live in the Grove.”

Caithe shrugged. “This is my home. I like it here, it’s peaceful and bright. And it is far away from anything to do with Zhaitan.”

“Okay, I sort of get it.”

“I should take you to see Trahearne,” Caithe said. “He’s at the Dreamer’s Terrace.”

The women walked together through the greenery. Cérea couldn’t help but feel out of place. They reached the Terrace and stepped inside. A tall male sylvari had his back towards them, but when he heard them enter, he turned around and flashed them a smile. Cérea recognized him immediately. It was the man from her dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished the long story I was writing, so it may be time to continue this one. My schedule is pretty irregular for quite some time, but I promise to try and write some lines every now and again.
> 
> It will probably take me some time to figure out how to write a fic about an MMO, but I'm working on it.


	3. Twins, Frogs, And Trahearne

”A protégé, Caithe? I’m glad to see you putting trust in someone again,” said the male sylvari from Cérea’s dream. He had the kindest smile she’d ever seen.

“Don’t start, Trahearne,” Caithe replied. She seemed a little annoyed.

Cérea simply stared. So it was Trahearne, the eldest of the sylvari, whose suffering face had haunted her dreams from the moment she’d come alive.

“No, I mean it. This is a step towards getting you over your grief,” Trahearne said.

“My ‘grief’ is not a pile of rubble I can’t simply climb over. I don’t want to talk about this,” Caithe replied and turned to Cérea. “Cérea, this is Trahearne, another of the firstborn and a bit of a wiseass.”

“Pleasure,” Cérea managed, hoarsely, and bowed.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the firstborn replied. Cérea could almost feel how his pleasant voice washed over her. “Caithe speaks well of you, Cérea – and she rarely speaks well of anyone. I need your help.”

‘Yes, yes, anything!’ would probably have seemed weird and a touch on the desperate side, so Cérea went with: “I would be honored.”

Trahearne went on about salves, hylek, plants, twins, and trades, but Cérea was only half listening. She merely nodded and stared at the man from her dreams. It was bizarre to see him there, actually there, knowing that he was real and tangible. She could touch him, though that would be too strange. Of course she had known that she’d meet him one day, but now that the day had come, she felt… surreal.

“Valiant?”

Traheane’s question broke Cérea’s train of thought. Caithe was looking at her with a crooked smile.

“Yes?”

“Will you give me aid?”

“Of course I’ll give it to you, firstborn. Aid, I mean. I’d love to help,” Cérea stumbled with her words.

“Thank you,” Trahearne said and gave her one of his gentle smiles. “The twins are very young and they can be argumentative, but they have good hearts. They will be meeting the Hazupl caravan just north of Mabon Market to make the trade.”

Cérea and Caithe left Dreamer’s Terrace. Cérea tried not to look at her new friend’s knowing smile.

“I should probably go do that stuff with the twins and the frogs, so… later,” Cérea said.

“What stuff was that?” Caithe asked. “Are you sure you know what you are doing? You seemed a little preoccupied while Trahearne was talking.”

Cérea gave her a dark look. “I was taking it all in.”

“Or at least thinking about doing that,” Caithe quipped.

“You have a dirty mind, firstborn,” Cérea replied. “I have a mission to do. I’ll let you know how it went.”

\--

Cérea met the twins, Arlon and Pellam, at the designated place. It didn’t take long before she wanted to knock their stupid heads together. They talked all the time and they disagreed about everything. She had trouble believing that they were actually her senior by several years. It only went to show that wisdom did not come with age.

The trade did not go as planned. The sylvari hadn’t known that they were getting between two hylek tribes. Naturally it turned out to be a trap. The attackers got away with the extract Trahearne had sent the sylvari to collect. Cérea had to fix the mess.

\--

“There you are, Valiant. Arlon and Pellam were telling me what you discovered at the trading post,” Trahearne said when Cérea entered Dreamer’s Terrace.

“More than I wanted to know,” she replied, thinking about the asura who wanted to get his ‘cog-sucking golem working again’.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

The twins presented their plans and argued their case. The main thing being “argued”.

“By the Pale Tree!” Trahearne swore. “They’ll argue forever. Cérea, I’m putting you in charge. Choose a plan and get started.”

“There’s no need to kill the entire village. We can trick them into giving us the extract,” she said.

The twins left, shoving each other on their way out. Trahearne looked after them and shook his head.

“The brothers argue more than ever. I thought this responsibility would bring them closer, but all it’s done is break them apart,” he said somberly.

“Sometimes you have to let people fix themselves,” Cérea said.

Trahearne looked at her. His gaze was steady as he thought her words over. She felt herself getting restless under his scrutiny. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were just as captivating when he was serious.

“You think that I’m trying to make them be something they are not?”

Cérea shrugged. “You seem like a well-intentioned big brother. You want them to get over themselves and grow a pair, but they are not ready yet.”

“Grow a pair? I am not familiar with this expression.”

“I live in Shaemoor. Human idioms sort of rub off on you.”

“I have noticed that to be true,” he replied. “I would like to know more about what you have learned while living amongst humans, but you have a mission that awaits your attention. Maybe we can converse after you are finished?”

“I’d like that, firstborn.”

“Please, call me Trahearne.”

“As you wish,” Cérea replied and bowed. “Until we meet again, Trahearne.”

\--

Life in Tyria is sometimes beyond ridiculous, Cérea thought while she was telling the frogs to hide. You’d think that it would have been enough to tell them: “Go and hide,” but no – she needed to take them one at a time to a decent spot and tell them to lay low until the time came.

Pellam put up the signal for the trade to begin. The Dengatl arrived, as agreed. They were interested in the magic weapons Pellam had promised and the “super-sylvari-shiny-magic” he said they had been enchanted with. Cérea had trouble keeping a straight face when he said that. It was so horrible she wanted to cover her face with her hand. None the less, the Dengatl were so happy with the weapons that they were going to rob them.

“A double-cross?” Pellam said. “Oh, no. I’m toad-ally surprised. How unhoppy for us! Wart are we going to do?”

“Stop! That’s not funny!” The Dengatl Speaker yelled.

“I agree,” Cérea replied. “We’d better move on with the program before he comes up with more of those. Hazupl! Attack!”

The Dengatl tried their best, but they were no match to the sylvari and the Hazupl. The Dengatl Speaker tried to hide but to no avail. They found him and interrogated him only to find out that he didn’t have the zalisco extract. He’d given it to the speaker of the Ogotl tribe. He wanted to use it to make some sort of a super weapon called the Eye of the Sun. Cérea punched his lights out for that.

“I don’t like the sound of this weapon,” she said.

“Neither do I,” Pellam replied. “The Dengatl Speaker’s jar still has some of the extract in it. I’ll take it with me before we head back to the Grove. We need to consult Trahearne.”

Pellam was uncharacteristically quiet on the way back. Cérea would have welcomed such silence earlier, but now it made her antsy. Not caring could be so difficult.

“Are you worried for you brother?” she asked.

The other sylvari nodded. “I haven’t heard from him. I wish he hasn’t done anything stupid and rash – that would be just like him.”

“Why do you two hang out all the time when you make each other so crazy?” she asked out of curiosity.

Pellam looked at her like she’d turned human all of a sudden. “We were born from the same pod. We were meant to walk this life side by side. What else would we do?”

“Discover life? Find who you are outside your strained partnership in order to appreciate each other more?” Cérea suggested.

Pellam fell silent again. Perhaps he was considering her words, perhaps he was thinking that she was crazy. Cérea was okay with either option. Silence, and thinking for that matter, would do him good.

\--

“I’ve read about the ‘Eye of the Sun’ in ancient hylek scrolls,” Trahearne said after they’d clued him in. “It’s a potion said to have the power to transform the imbiber into an avatar of the sun. It’s extremely difficult to make and very unstable. I thought it was just a myth.”

“It would appear that the Ogotl are trying to bust that myth,” Cérea replied. “What sort of an avatar are we talking about? A cute and friendly little guy who wants world peace or a huge blue monster who wants to take your land and everything valuable in it?”

“I am not absolutely certain what the avatar would look like, but I would have to assume that the Ogotl are not trying to achieve world peace,” Trahearne replied. “Even if Tochzotl fails to become an avatar, the potion he’s making will be extremely toxic. If it gets out of control, it could poison the entire Ogotl tribe.”

“We were able to recover some of the zalisco extract from the Dengatl – but it isn’t much,” Pellam said.

“It’ll have to be enough. I’ll start working on a counter-agent. You two head for the Ogotl grounds. Caithe and I will meet you there,” said Trahearne and Caithe nodded. “You must hurry. If Tochzotl makes the potion and drinks it, he’ll become unbelievably powerful – and likely go insane.”

“I think he’s already there,” Cérea commented.

“We can’t go without Arlon,” Pellam said. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry, Pellam,” Trahearne replied. “He hasn’t returned. I’ll leave word for him to meet us at the Ogotl grounds.”

Cérea had to push Pellam out of Dreamer’s Terrace.

“We need to wait for Arlon! He could be in danger.”

“He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can take care of himself,” Cérea replied. “We need to get moving if we want to stop that crazy frog.”

“Fine.”

\--

“Caithe scouted ahead and said that the river seemed… fouled. She went back out there to keep watch,” Pellam said.

“Thorns!” Cérea swore. “If they poison the river, they could destroy the entire Caledon Forest! There’s no time to waste, we have to go now.”

“I agree,” Trahearne said. “Lead the way.”

What followed was a medley of frogs, poison, countering said poison, frogs, turrets, and frogs. And Arlon, who’d been captured by the frogs. Seeing his brother like that made Pellam fight like mad. His strength and determination impressed even Cérea. Maybe there was something more to their bond than just empty words and insults.

“Fall to your knees, feeble creatures! Behold, the Eye of the Sun!” the transformed Tochzotl hollered.

“The sun has got one butt-ugly eye,” Cérea stated.

“It doesn’t matter – he has to die for what he’s done to Arlon!” Pellam yelled and charged at the monster.

Their combined efforts brought the beast down and made it be no more. When it was dead, Pellam kicked it and rushed to his twin.

“Arlon! Thorns! What have they done to you?”

“The Ogotl… tested their toxin on me… before they put it in the river. I fell… sick… burned inside. I shouldn’t have… tried to do it alone,” Arlon managed. He did look very sick.

“No, it’s my fault,” Pellam said and grabbed his brother into a hug. “I let you go instead of trying to find a compromise. You’ll be fine, though, and from now on we’ll work as a team.”

They left together, Arlon leaning heavily on his brother.

“Well done, Valiant,” Trahearne said. “The twins have learned a valuable lesson.”

“I don’t think that was my doing,” Cérea replied. “It was you who asked them to do this. I only managed to keep myself from gagging them and banging their heads together.”

“Not such an easy task, that one,” Caithe said with a smile that vanished soon. “These hylek are as bad as asura: poison, experiments, murder… When will they learn that we’re not the enemy?”

“What do the asura have to do with this?” Cérea asked.

“When we first emerged from the tree, we thought to befriend the asura. Malomedies paid the price.”

“Who could resist the joy of our company?” Cérea asked with a raised eyebrow. She herself had fled from the continuous joy of being with other sylvari.

“There is no joy in me now, Cérea,” Caithe said. “Only efficiency. Come, let us leave this place.”

They left the Ogotl grounds in silence. Caithe was deep in thought while constantly watching the surroundings for signs of danger. Cérea glanced at Trahearne and noticed that he nudged at her. She went closer and adapted her pace with his.

“How do you like living with humans?” he asked.

“I guess you could say that it’s an education,” she replied and thought how she could describe it. “Their lives are varied, as are their emotions. They are very fond of denial, compromises, and desires. They don’t feel the sort of kinship with each other as many sylvari do. The human lands are ripe with bandits, but they aren’t stigmatized like the Nightmare Court. They are simply humans who have chosen to earn their living in an unlawful way. They are not considered heretics who are unable to be redeemed.”

“You disapprove of how the Nightmare Court is treated?”

“I don’t understand why it has to be either or,” she said and shrugged. “Life isn’t that black and white.”

Trahearne looked at her with a curious smile on his face. She couldn’t decipher it.

“You have traveled more than many others of our kin,” Cérea said. “What do you think?”

“I think that you are unique,” Trahearne replied. “Someone so young to understand such a deep truth about existence… I can see why you have been given the task of fighting the Elder Dragon.”

Cérea’s sap stopped flowing for a second and then rushed forward more quickly than before. She felt a warmth in her chest.

“That is the first genuine, non-sarcastic smile I have ever seen on your face,” Trahearne said. “See – you can encounter the world without the shield of humor and cynicism. And when you do, it looks beautiful.”

The only response Cérea could come up with was to continue smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if you caught that, but the two avatars I referenced were Avatar - The Last Airbender (the series; the movie was total crap) and Avatar (the 2009 film).
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments, and kudos! Like I said, my schedule is very irregular throughout the summer. I will try to write a chapter now and then because - let's face it - it's fun :P
> 
> Enjoy your summer!


	4. Bandit Hog Heaven

“Are you here?”

Cérea was brought back from her thoughts by a familiar voice. She looked up into Ihan’s curious expression. He was standing by her table at the bar where she’d been so deep in thought that her food had grown cold.

“I am now,” she replied and smiled at him when he sat down opposite her. “Sorry, I was trying to process my trip. It’s good to see you.”

“Right back at you,” he said and squeezed her hand before beginning his dinner. “Was your trip as bad as you thought it was going to be?”

“Not exactly,” she answered. “I mean… I don’t see myself feeling at home in the Grove and being best buds with most of my siblings, but I made a new friend, I think.”

“That’s great,” Ihan said and gave her one of his radiant smiles. “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

“It’s Caithe. Her life has made her a realist and she was born during the night, just like me,” Cérea replied and shrugged. “We get along.”

“Isn’t she a firstborn? They are special, right?”

“Yes, she is. As far as being special – aren’t all firstborn special?”

“Well, I certainly am,” Ihan said with such a cocky grin that Cérea had to laugh.

“There you are then,” she said. “The firstborn are the first, as indicated by the name. They have lived the longest, they’ve had the most time to gather knowledge, to learn, to grow. I can’t speak for them being the wisest, because I’ve learned that age and wisdom do not go hand in hand.” Cérea thought of Arlon and Pellam. “But the ones I’ve met have been less childish and more mature than most younger sylvari tend to be.”

“You’ve met others besides Caithe?”

“The leader of the Cycle of Night is a firstborn called Malomedies. He offered me council concerning my dream. I also met Trahearne, the eldest.”

“I’ve heard of him,” said Ihan, a bit to Cérea’s surprise. “He’s well known to all the orders. Everyone respects him and his knowledge of Orr.”

“Really? I had no idea. I knew that he has studied all things Orr for 25 years but I wouldn’t have thought that his studies would have made him such a celebrity.”

“Zhaitan has made every scholar of Orr precious. And trust me – there are not many.”

Cérea thought of everything that she’d learned of Orr from the Dream and everything she’d heard since. “I can see why,” she said. “But enough about that rotten place. What have you been up to?”

Ihan made Cérea laugh by telling her a couple of stories about his latest missions. They finished their dinner in light conversation and left the bar. It was already dark outside and the moon was shining brightly. Ihan took hold of Cérea’s hand and stopped, making her stop, too. She turned to look at him and he pulled her closer.

“Did I already say that I missed you?” he asked her softly.

“I don’t think you did.”

“So here goes: I missed you,” he said and kissed her for a long time. 

“I should go away more often if it means getting kisses like that,” Cérea said.

“Were you planning on going away any time soon?” Ihan asked.

“If I want to keep eating and having a roof over my head, I have to,” she replied. “Besides, I’d get bored out of my mind just sitting inside and twirling my thumbs.”

“I get that,” Ihan said. “Where are you headed next?”

“I was thinking Kessex Hills. I have three Shining Blade Bounty Notices for that place which makes the whole area seem like some sort of bandit hog heaven.”

“You aren’t entirely wrong,” Ihan admitted. “I’d come with you but I have a mission in a couple of days. But maybe next time. It would be nice to see you in action.”

“How about,” Cérea said slowly with a sly smile, “you come to my place right now to see me in action?”

Even though it was dark, Cérea could see how his pupils dilated. Humans’ bodies did some very curious things when they got aroused.

“I would like that,” Ihan replied hoarsely.

\--

Cérea found out very soon that Kessex Hills was awash with bandits and centaurs. It was curious that they had managed to coexist and even gang up on the rest of the residents. The battle between them and the Seraph seemed never-ending – not that anyone was doing anything to end it. They appeared perfectly satisfied to keep on fighting each other, so Cérea let them.

There were a few interesting acquaintances in the mix, though. Draithor the Drill, as he called himself, was one of them.

“You reek of power. Where did you get it?” the centaur necromancer intoned.

“Excuse me?” Cérea asked. She looked at her dress. There was a bit of blood there, sure, but not enough to cause a noticeable smell.

“I can smell the powers emanating from you. Is it magic? Perhaps simply raw strength? Pathfinder would love to taste your power. Would you submit to a small experiment?” he asked, indicating his enormous drill.

“Listen, buddy, you can do what you want with your drill but I won’t go anywhere near that thing.”

“You refuse? That is unacceptable. When you die, your power will be mine!”

Cérea was lucky that she wasn’t the only one around when Draithor lost his marbles. He was one tough son of a mare. He kept conjuring minions and flesh wurms and he stole life when he was about to run out. Cérea realized that necromancers were really annoying opponents. That realization made her smile. Draithor was beaten and the winners looted his place. Some of his stuff was so weird that Cérea got a funny look when she tried to sell it to the merchant in Black Haven. At least he bought it after careful examination.

“Doesn’t Varre the Underhanded hang out around here?” Cérea asked him.

“Yeah, right behind the fortress. You just go up the hill. If you’re lucky, you’ll see him before he kills you,” the merchant said.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Make sure to say your prayers before you go up there.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Any time. Would you like to sell your valuables now or let the looters have them?”

“Goodbye.”

Varre was where the merchant had said he’d be. Cérea had killed enough bandits not to rush in by herself. The merchant’s comments made her even more wary than she usually was. She stayed close and kept an eye on the bandit leader while she killed other bandits and animals that posed a danger to unarmed civilians, though it made no sense to her that there even were such people. In a land like Tyria, everyone should know how to defend themselves.

Cérea heard a war cry. She looked up to locate its source and saw that a lone traveler had attacked Varre. That was dumb, she thought, and went a bit closer to study Varre’s skills and technique. He had a basic melee attack which was no big deal, but the area of effect damage he could produce… That was a bummer. Spikes of earth shot out of the ground, throwing the lone attacker violently into the air and making heavy damage. Only one of those and he was down.

“That’s bad.”

Cérea glanced at the human woman next to her. She was staring at the gleefully laughing Varre with a dark expression.

“You could say that, yes,” Cérea conceded.

“You’re after him, too?” the other woman asked.

“I need the money.”

“Don’t we all,” the human said and sat down. “The bounty better be worth this. I hate sitting around and waiting for more people when I could be out there, killing stuff.”

Cérea smiled. “Such a guardian you are.”

“Are you a necromancer?”

Cérea looked at her family of minions. “Gee, what gave me away?”

The guardian laughed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any food on you?”

Cérea searched her bag and found some mushroom pizza. She sat down next to the human and offered her some. “Here you go. I was going to have some anyway.”

“Much obliged.”

“Are you two going for Varre?”

The women looked up from their food. No one was above them, so they looked down into what could be seen from the face of a hooded asura.

“Nah, we decided that this was a good spot for a picnic,” Cérea said. “Have some pizza while we wait for more people to join us.”

“Thanks,” the asura said and took a slice of pizza. “Isn’t three enough?”

“For a bandit leader in Queensdale, yes, but not for this fellow,” Cérea said.

“You’ve taken down a bandit leader before?” the asura asked.

“You haven’t?”

“No,” the others replied.

“Ah. Then we are going to have to talk some strategy before you go in there and get yourselves killed,” Cérea said and looked up. “Like that dude.”

Another lone traveler had rushed Varre and was having his ass handed to him. It would need some stitching very soon.

“That’s… hardcore,” the asura said.

Fortuitously many people were after Varre. In time there were enough people to make a push for him. Cérea didn’t know how it had happened, but she’d ended up the commander on the effort. She’d gone through where to stand, how to avoid the worst of the attacks, and how to help each other out. Many of the attackers took a lot of damage, but they managed to take him down and cash the bounty on his head. A cheer went up when he was done for.

“Nice,” Cérea said. “It was a pleasure working with you. I’ll see you around.”

Cérea spent the night at the fortress with some of the others who’d been there to fight Varre. They swapped stories about their travels and laughed late into the night. Cérea was surprised by how much fun she had.

The next day Cérea explored the Cereboth Canyon which was not to her taste. She disliked and distrusted fire, not to mention creatures that produced it. She felt like she’d never get the smell of smoke off her clothes.

“Take me home! I’m scared!”

Cérea looked at the screaming child. Where had she come from? “Why are you here, child?” she asked.

“I want to go home!”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But I want to go HOME!”

“Stop yelling at me child, that is not going to help your case. Where is your home?”

“I WANT TO GO HOME!”

“Fine, I’ll take you home and ask your mother if she regrets procreating,” Cérea said. “Come on, child.”

Cérea bit her lip every time the kid started yelling that she wouldn’t move until the monster was gone. This made their progress excessively slow because the idiot girl had somehow ended up in a cave full on monsters. How and why this had happened was never made clear. Cérea and the kid made it out of the cave, but then an ettin came near them.

“I WON’T GO ANYWHERE UNTIL THAT MONSTER IS DEAD!” the kid yelled again.

“That’s it! I’ve had it!” Cérea said. She picked the child up and threw her over her shoulder. She left her minions to take care of the ettin and almost ran into the fortress.

“Who is responsible for this child?” she demanded to know.

“Kari! Where have you been? I was so worried,” said a woman in an apron. She looked like a merchant’s wife. She hurried towards them and took her daughter into her arms after Cérea had put her down. “Did this nice lady save you?”

“She said you must regret procreating. What is procreating?” Kari asked.

The look on the mother’s face was priceless. “She said what?”

“You should look after your kid better, she obviously lacks some basic reasoning skills,” Cérea said. “I found her in the cave where all the destroyers live. That is no place for a child, unless you want to prove natural selection.”

“What did you say?”

“Thank you for bringing our daughter safely back, here is some money for your trouble,” the dad hastened to say. He gave Cérea a decent bounty and nudged his head towards the door to indicate that she should leave before his wife got over her astonishment.

“Thank you. Take care,” Cérea said and left. 

She killed some ettins which was a nice change after the destroyers. At least ettins didn’t breathe fire on her and they could be distracted by fluffy bunnies. Cérea sort of got that – fluffy bunnies were cute.

Meeting the fishers of Triskell Quay made Cérea understand Kari a little better. What sort of an idiot ate fish that had a visible green cloud over it? No wonder they were getting sick and going crazy. She helped as many as she could and tried to do something about the poison floating around everywhere in the water.

Cérea spent the following days in similar pursuits. She earned money by either killing stuff or doing chores that seemed pointless, if not completely insane. She got to experience life as a pig, thanks to Matlal, and came to the conclusion that a pig’s life wasn’t particularly interesting. She assisted quaggans, which felt like a wasted effort. She killed some more bandits and centaurs. Maybe the most stupid things she was asked to do had to do with her own kin. Some of the wardens in Shadowheart were getting sick. The sickness could be cured by the water in the fountain that was literally three steps away from most of them, yet they would not take the trouble to go to it by themselves. Cérea had to carry water from the fountain and throw it on them. Of course she did it that because there was money in it, but she muttered curses on their stupidity the whole time.

Kessex Hills was full of travelers like Cérea, people trying to earn some money and see the world. Some of them were experienced, others were new and eager. One such a traveler, a human ranger, was getting his ass kicked by centaurs when Cérea happened on the scene. Her minions attacked the centaurs while she helped the poor guy up. He thanked her for saving his life. She bowed and was about to move on when he kneeled in front of her with a twinkle in his eye. Cérea couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud. She padded him on the back and told him to take care of himself.

Cérea was able to collect the bounties from all the three bandit leaders that resided in the area. After the last one went down near Fort Salma, something unexpected occurred. A female warrior appeared out of nowhere. Cérea could almost hear ominous music playing in her head. The woman created a see-through, impassable dome that trapped people inside it. Then she started finishing them off, one by one.

“An Executioner!” someone shouted. “You take down enough bandit leaders and they send one after you.”

Cérea did some mental math on how many bandit leaders she’d defeated. No wonder they were mad. There were a lot of people fighting the Executioner and her posse, but that didn’t seem to matter. The Executioner was formidable. She did huge damage fast, she could reflect projectiles, and when she whirled, people went down like hay in heavy rain. If you were not alert and missed a dodge, you were dead. The last thing you saw was the Executioner’s huge sword being plunged at your heart. 

The commotion brought more people to the fight. Once, Cérea caught the magical sword that was supposed to crush her. She smiled with glee and hurled it back at the sender. The Executioner’s roar of rage was satisfying. Little by little they wore her down. 

“A round of beer for everyone!” a charr promised when the Executioner was dead.

They went to the closest tavern and drank to their victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day I completed Kessex Hills with Cérea I did actually do quite a bit of mentoring and used my comm tag, but these are not the conversations we had. The thing with the male human ranger is just as it happened minus padding him on the back, since that is not a possibility.
> 
> I like Kessex Hills as a map. It's varied and has many bandit leaders to kill (a hobby of mine). I dislike Kari (as you probably guessed; her quest makes no sense). I had met Draithor before but I had no idea what that drill thing was about until I looked him up on Wiki. I got a good laugh.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying a nice summer :)


	5. Salad Bowls And Centaurs

”I joined the Order of Whispers. How was your day?”

“What? Are you joking?” Ihan asked. His astonished expression was quite funny, Cérea thought.

She shook her head. “No, I’m serious.”

“That’s awesome!” he thrilled and kissed her. “How did it happen? I was under the impression that you were dead set against cooperation and would never join an order.”

“It’s a long story and I’m hungry. How about we go to the bar and I tell you over dinner?”

“Works for me. It’s my treat tonight; it’s the least I can do to welcome the newest member of our order,” Ihan said and smiled his radiant smile at her.

They went to the bar, got some food, and sat down at a corner table.

“Alright, tell me,” Ihan said. “I’m at the edge of my seat over here.”

“I never would have thought you’d be so into this.”

“I just want to see you in a Whispers uniform,” Ihan replied and winked at her. “Those are majorly hot.”

Cérea raised an eyebrow at him. Ihan’s own uniform was many things, like flashy and multicolored, but hot it was definitely not. “I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’ll go with: you for one look much better without your uniform than in it.”

“The uniforms for women are different.”

“That does not surprise me one bit.”

“And then there is the whole ‘secret agent infiltrating’ feeling to it,” Ihan continued. He seemed very keen on the idea.

“So it’s a fetish thing,” Cérea said. “I never knew.”

Ihan shrugged. “Maybe a teeny, tiny bit. Mostly I like that we are colleagues now.”

“Riiiight.”

Ihan flashed her a schoolboyish smile. “You have yet to tell me the story of the Valiant joining the Order of Whispers. Are there any disguises? Was there infiltration?”

“You are way too excited about this,” Cérea said and laughed. “Fine. There were both.”

“Oooh, I like the sound of this.”

“Hold your horses, secret agent, it didn’t start with that,” Cérea said and leaned back in her chair. “As you know, I was called back to the Grove to act as a Herald of Mother Tree. I have no idea how I became the go-to-person when there is trouble in the Grove, but that is who I am now. An attack on Overlake Haven was imminent, but the three orders were too busy fighting to come to a solution about a plan. They made me choose, so I decided to go with the Vigil and just kill everything – no muss, no fuss. It went pretty smoothly at the fortress, though a particularly ugly specimen of undead made an appearance. When told about it in the Grove, Trahearne recognized it as a lich called Mazdak the Accursed.”

“Hold a second,” Ihan said. “You caught a glimpse of a weird monster and by that description alone someone was able to identify it with a name and a title? How is that possible? And how does a lich even have a name and a title?”

“I haven’t the foggiest clue,” Cérea replied. “It has been boggling me, too. Evidently this was an important bit of information, because it turned out to be the same lich that had killed a firstborn called Riannoc. His sword, Caladbolg, was lost when he disappeared.”

“Caladbolg? Seriously?” Ihan asked.

“Yeah, I’m with you. It sounds completely ridiculous,” Cérea admitted. “Though quite a sweet weapon. I got to try it out.”

“You found it, then.”

“Yes, but that is getting ahead of the story,” Cérea said. “Where was I?”

“Mazdak killed Riannoc.”

“Oh, right. Cai and Iowerth had alternate plans to find out what had happened with the sword. I went with Cai – do you know her?”

“By sight, yes, but not much,” he replied. “Is this where the infiltration and disguises come in?”

“Yes, freak, this is where they come in.”

“Yay!” Ihan enthused and clapped his hands. “What did you do?”

Cérea gave him a look that made him settle down a bit. “We infiltrated a bandit camp disguised as humans.”

“Oooh!”

“If you keep making that sound, they’ll kick us out again.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, as I said, we were disguised as humans and went to ask around in a bandit camp. Riannoc’s squire, Waine, was a native of the region and Cai figured that someone would know about him. We had to do a lot of ridiculous stuff to win their trust, but it worked.”

“Like what?”

“You know, crack an easy code, throw bottles at a pit-fighter, hunt moas, insult people, regular bandit stuff. Some of it was actually pretty fun.”

“Sounds legit,” Ihan nodded. “What did you find out?”

“A guy called Jat told us that Waine has a magic sword that he’s been using to win tournaments. He was still fighting in Guardian’s Pass. When we brought this to the Pale Tree and the orders, Branthyn wanted to take the sword by force and Cai wanted to rig the tournament and steal it from him.”

“That sounds like fun. How did you do it?”

“The usual,” Cérea said and shrugged. “Bribed some people, gave Waine a drink spiked with some hallucinogenic mushrooms and ended up having to drink it myself in the process.”

“I bet that didn’t go exactly according to plan.”

“It didn’t, but it was the only way to get him to drink it.”

“What happened after that?” Ihan asked.

“I’m not absolutely certain,” Cérea admitted. “I remember the fight, but there were also beasts, oozes, dredge, spontaneous combustions, and people turning into carnivorous moas, though Cai tells me that none of that actually happened. Neither was the world as pink as I remember it.”

Ihan grinned at her. “Sounds like you had quite the trip.”

“Yeah. If someone offers you mushrooms, just say no. But we got the sword.”

“Salad bowl.”

“Caladbolg.”

“That’s what I said,” Ihan replied and grinned.

“You keep that up and I’m going to go digging in some library and find a human artifact that has an even more ridiculous name,” Cérea threatened.

“Be my guest,” Ihan said. “I take it that you went to kill that lich next?”

“Not before consulting the others in the Grove. Every order had a plan to deal with Mazdak. The Pale Tree told me to pick an order to join permanently.”

“Oh, that’s how it happened – maternal pressure.”

“It wasn’t only that,” Cérea said. “If I had been completely against the idea, I would have refused. During the past weeks I’ve noticed that you had a point about having traveling companions and friends to bring to a fight with you. I’m still not about to hug everyone I come across, but I see that there might be some benefit to having colleagues.”

“Aw,” Ihan said. “Touchy-feely Cérea is born.”

“Bite me.”

“You get that uniform and I absolutely will,” Ihan replied, his voice low and husky.

Cérea cleared her throat. Was it only her, or was it getting hot in here? “As I was saying, I joined the Order of Whispers and helped them carry out their plan of pitting two bothers against each other. We tricked the centaurs and the undead into fighting each other and killed Mazdak in the confusion. I had Caladbolg during the fight and it was glorious. One day I’m going to learn how to wield a greatsword.”

“Did you get to keep it?”

“Sadly no. They are going to look after it in the Grove.”

“Wow, that was quite the story,” Ihan said. “My last week seems pathetic compared to yours.”

“Come on, don’t sell yourself short,” Cérea replied. “I’m sure you did something of interest.”

“I learned how to make diamond bracelets.”

Cérea managed to keep a straight face. She patted his hand on the table. “Yours is very pretty.”

Ihan looked at her and started laughing his ass off. Cérea joined him. They both laughed until their eyes were running. People gave them funny looks, but they didn’t care.

“Please, take me with you on your next trip,” Ihan said when the laughter had finally stopped. “The Order is giving me nothing and I’m going out of my mind.”

“Crafting is good use of your time,” Cérea said.

“I’m making bracelets, Cérea. Bracelets!”

“All right, settle down. How does Harathi Hinterlands sound to you?”

“Perfect. Can we go tomorrow?”

\--

“Those quaggans were so cute.”

Cérea looked at Ihan. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

“They are small and squishy and they talk baby-talk. How is that not cute?”

“They are small and squishy and they talk-baby talk,” Cérea replied drily. “They should be extinct by now. It’s a miracle they’ve survived thus far.”

“Someone up there must like them,” Ihan replied.

“Up where? Divinity’s Reach?”

“I meant one of the gods.”

“I wouldn’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Your gods have… curious interests.”

“Just like people,” Ihan replied. “Where to next?”

“Want to bet that whatever it is, it has something to do with centaurs?”

“Nah, I like my money.”

Almost everything in Harathi Hinterlands had to do with centaurs which were not one of Cérea’s favorite enemies. They charged at her and ran over her with no regard for boundaries or personal space. Thank goodness they were so dumb. A mine of theirs was just asking to be torched with open flames and explosives lying around everywhere.

“Have we already been here?” Ihan asked when they walked through a camp.

“I honestly have no idea,” Cérea replied. “All the centaur camps look the same.”

She looked around and spotted a seraph standing inside a cage while another stood outside of it. She walked to the man on the outside.

“Has he done something bad?” she asked and nudged her head towards the guy in the cage.

The one she’d spoken to looked around to see to whom she was referring. “Not to my knowledge,” he replied when he saw his colleague.

“Why’s he in the cage?”

“I was taken as a prisoner by the centaurs,” the prisoner replied.

“I see. And why are you still there?”

“No one has let me out.”

“By the Pale Tree…” Cérea sighed and broke the cage.

“Thank you,” the prisoner said. “I will be happy to walk free until they capture me again on their return.”

“You might consider seeking some nice head doctor to talk to,” Cérea suggested.

“Will the doctor put me in a cage?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh.” The man seemed disappointed. “I think I’m fine right here. The centaurs are preparing another attack.”

“Please yourself.”

Ihan and Cérea helped the Seraph defeat the attacking centaurs. When they’d left the camp, Cérea turned to Ihan and gave him a kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Thanks for not having joined the Seraph.”

It took them several days to do everything there was to do in Harathi Hinterlands. Most of it was fighting centaurs and taking their stuff, but there were also exceptions, some of which were fun. Cérea enjoyed working with Hawkes’ birds while Ihan used the big bow and laughed like a little kid.

“I’ve got to get one of these!”

“Oh, yes, that’s a thief’s weapon if I ever saw one,” Cérea replied. “How would you sneak up on people with that thing?”

“I wouldn’t need to,” he answered. “I’d just blow the shit out of them from afar!”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. Working with him had been even more pleasant than she’d anticipated. It was informative to see how a thief fought – it was very different from how a necromancer went about things. Ihan sneaked on his prey in stealth and then took them down with a few stabs whereas Cérea ran at them full speed with her family of minions and unleashed on them a swarm of destruction.

They were escorting a bull at walking pace when Ihan turned to look at Cérea, watched her for a while and said: “You look badass.”

“Hmph?” Cérea had been immersed in her thoughts because the journey had been uneventful.

“Walking along the road in your dark clothes with your scythe over your shoulder,” he said. “Badass.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Ihan moved closer to her. “What would you say to a little detour after this is done?”

Cérea took in his darkened eyes and shallow breath. “I’d like that.”

Ihan chuckled and took her hand. He ran towards the forest, trailing her behind him. She had the presence of mind to dispel all her minions before he took her against a tree. That wasn’t something one wanted an ethereal bone creature to witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greatsword is one of my favorite weapons (in any game). I'm looking forward to Cérea having enough hero points gathered to swing one. At least I can up my kill count on other weapons while working towards that point.
> 
> The cuteness of quaggans is an often-debated issue in our guild. It's one against the rest, the rest holding that quaggans are not cute. Trust me, I am not that one.
> 
> I understand that there needs to be something to do for a heart despite the progress of the events but, even so, it's pretty weird that there are imprisoned seraph in citadels held by the Seraph.
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments, and kudos! :) Bathe in the sun!


	6. Searching for The Bigger Picture

Cérea was about to take a bite of her breakfast roll when she heard a girlish scream. She turned to look behind her.

“Really? Again?” she said to Ihan who was holding his shaving knife at her Ghostly Mail Carrier. “I would have thought that you’d have gotten used to him by now.”

“It’s way too early in the morning for a ghostly apparition to stand behind me while I’m shaving,” Ihan replied and lowered his knife. “He’s dangerous – I could have cut myself.”

Cérea sighed and took the letter that was offered to her. While she was unrolling it, a carrier pigeon appeared and delivered a similar note to Ihan.

“See, this is the proper way to get mail,” he said and put his knife down altogether to read the message.

Cérea read her letter. “It seems the Order of Whispers is calling me to action,” she said. Only then did she look up and was immediately struck by Ihan’s grave countenance. “What is it?”

“The order is calling me, as well,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m being relocated to Orr for the foreseeable future.”

“What? Why? That doesn’t sound right.”

“The rise of Zhaitan is worrying everyone. All the orders of Tyria are sending people to Orr in order to reclaim it, or at least to hold off the undead before they roam over us,” Ihan said. He sat down and stared at nothing.

“Reclaiming Orr? That’s ridiculous! It’s a wasteland swarming with undead. Why would we even want it?” Cérea asked.

“We will need a solid foothold for the war against Zhaitan,” Ihan said, sounding suddenly very tired. “It makes sense.”

Cérea sat down next to him and took his hand. “Do you have to go?”

“Yes. I have to go.”

“I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for some time, both deep in their own thoughts.

“When do you have to go?” Cérea asked.

“As soon as I am able,” he said and looked up to her. “You know what this means for us, don’t you?”

“You have to go and I have to stay,” Cérea replied. She moved from her chair into his lap and kissed him gently. He hugged her close.

Ihan laughed bitterly. “And I used to think that us both being in the order would mean more time together. I never thought it would lead to us having to break up.”

Cérea knew that she could have said that they could try having a long-distance relationship, but that would have been pointless. Neither of them wanted that. Their relationship was too new to survive on letters alone. Besides, they lived dangerous lives. Orr was not known as a holiday spot. Either or both of them could face the end any day. It wouldn’t be worth it to try and hold on to something as intangible and unsure as a long-distance relationship based on a few months of effortless happiness.

She kissed him again. “I am going to miss you, Madam.”

He chuckled. “I am going to miss you, too.”

\--

“Caithe! What are you doing in Lion’s Arch?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Valiant. I trust that you are well,” Caithe said and smiled at her friend. “I have come for a meeting of Destiny’s Edge.”

“A meeting of what now?”

“Destiny’s Edge used to be a famous guild, back in the day,” Caithe said. “There were six of us: Eir Stegalkin, Logan Thackeray, Rytlock Brimstone, Snaff, Zojja, and myself.”

Cérea did the math. “A norn, a human, a charr, two asura, and you? You don’t see that every day. Why haven’t I heard of this?”

“We… have not worked together for a long time,” Caithe said, looking uncomfortable. “We went against an Elder Dragon, but failed. There were… complications. We lost Snaff and another dear friend who was helping us.”

“I’m sorry,” Cérea said sincerely. 

“Thank you,” Caithe responded. “Anyway, what came to light about Riannoc’s fate made me think. He failed his Wyld Hunt because he was alone. We are never going to defeat Zhaitan unless we work together. Hence, I invited Destiny’s Edge here in the hopes of us overcoming our differences and uniting against another Elder Dragon. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them together. This will work. It must.”

Caithe went to meet a group that looked like it had to be Destiny’s Edge. Cérea watched the meeting from a distance. Everyone seemed tense and irritable. The exchange didn’t last long before the parties headed into their own directions. It didn’t look like they’d sit down to have tea and cakes any time soon. When Caithe returned to Cérea, disappointment was clear on her face.

“They are frozen in that moment. That one second when we split apart. Why can’t they move beyond it? I don’t understand.”

“Grief and guilt are strong emotions,” Cérea said. “They can overpower even the most sensible of people. But I agree with you – they should see past their feelings.”

“They are wasting time, while the dragons grow stronger. I must find a way to make them see.”

“If you need help, you may call on me,” Cérea said. “I’m not sure what I can do to aid you in getting your former guild mates to see reason, but I take a personal interest in defeating Zhaitan, as you well know.”

“I am glad to have you, my friend,” Caithe replied. “I have been remiss in not asking you what has brought you to Lion’s Arch.”

“I’m supposed to meet my contact from the Order of Whispers,” Cérea answered. “There is a secret word and nonsense like that. It all seems needlessly cloak and dagger if you ask me.”

Caithe smiled. “That is how they go about their business in Whispers.”

“How can you be cloak and dagger while dressed like you should work in a circus?” Cérea asked, making Caithe laugh.

“Maybe you should ask that when you meet your contact,” she said. “I won’t keep you longer. Take care, my friend. You’ll hear from me soon.”

“Thanks. You, too, Caithe.”

\--

The whole business with the order representatives in Lion’s Arch did not endear her chosen order much to Cérea. The thing with the apples was ridiculous and her charr ‘mentor’ did not seem particularly apt in being inconspicuous. At least he had an actual mission for them which Cérea welcomed. She wanted something take her mind off Ihan’s departure.

A dark-haired woman appeared after the charr had left. She beckoned to Cérea. “Before you follow Tybalt, speak with me, Initiate. My name is Riel, and I am the order’s primary spy in Lion’s Arch. The Preceptors sent me to welcome you before you begin your first mission. You have a right to know what dangers you will face…”

“Thanks, but I have been traveling Tyria since I awoke. My Wyld Hunt is to face Zhaitan. I am quite well aware of the difficulties waiting for me,” Cérea replied.

“Nonetheless,” Riel said, clearly determined to give her the “Order of Whispers rules” speech that contained lines like “Only the Order of Whispers stands between civilization and ruin”.

“Alright-y then,” Cérea said when Riel was done. “Thanks for the recruitment ad. I’ll be off to meet Tybalt now, unless you would care to give me the complimentary knife set and desk calendar?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Goodbye.” 

When Cérea walked away, she realized that her resentment towards the order might have a lot to do with Ihan. Sure, they were ridiculous in all this hush hush and sneakier than thou thing, but they sincerely wanted to work for the safety of Tyria. She probably should give them the benefit of the doubt and look at the bigger picture, not at the laughable outfits. Hadn’t Ihan said something about people looking too much at the clothes instead of the person in them?

\--

Applenook Hamlet wasn’t far from Lion’s Arch. Her mentor, Tybalt, was waiting for her at the edge of the village.

“Hey, Initiate! I wish we could’ve talked at that tavern in Lion’s Arch… Free drinks, plenty of pretty ladies who’ll talk to a broken-down engineer,” Tybalt said wistfully. 

“Maybe next time,” Cérea replied. “I’ll even buy you a round of something you’ll enjoy. Apple cider, right?”

“Ha! Good one,” Tybalt boomed. “Anyway, here’s the situation.”

He proceeded to tell Cérea about the political situation in Kryta, most of which was already known to her. Queen Jennah was, despite her name and appearance, a competent ruler for the most part, and the Order of Whispers wanted to keep her on the throne. This meant undermining the plots the ministers tended to throw at her, among them Caudecus. Recently Caudecus’ own daughter, Demmi, had contacted the order about something fishy that was going on.

“Trouble is, the order lost contact with Demmi between Divinity’s Reach and Applenook Hamlet. Our job is to track her down,” Tybalt finished.

Cérea nodded. “Okay, let’s ask around and see if we can pick up anything useful.”

Applenook Hamlet was a small village, just such a place where every traveler would be looked at and remembered. It was easy to find people who remembered seeing a finely dressed young lady walking around town and making impractical purchases. There was a group of Ministry Guards in town. They’d commandeered the entire tavern, which did not please the locals much. There was something off in the way they went about, getting messages through the normal messenger instead of using the Ministry’s own messenger.

“You have a way with people. Not bad,” Tybalt complemented her. “Squeeze them a little, and these villagers leak information.”

Cérea smiled. “Anyone not used to minions will tell you anything as long as it means that my shadow fiend will stop staring at them.”

Tybalt gave the minion in question a side glance. “I don’t blame them. Any who, Demmi was here, but then disappeared. The Ministry Guard appeared right after she vanished.”

“It makes sense that her power-hungry daddy would send guards to bring her back before she talked to anyone. But if they’d found her, they wouldn’t be here.”

“The Ministry Guard Commander was angry about a message from an unknown source.”

“It seems the time has come to find more about the Ministry Guards,” Cérea said.

“They’re all at the tavern,” Tybalt commented. “If we can get them drinking and talking, they’ll spill their apples.”

“I bet they’ve already done the drinking part…”

The guards had indeed been drinking. A couple of them slipped enough for Cérea to gather that pirates had taken Demmi and sent a ransom demand, probably by mail. The sergeant didn’t look kindly on the blabbermouths and ordered one of them upstairs to be yelled at. Tybalt and Cérea followed them but they didn’t learn much from the altercation.

“We need to see that letter,” Tybalt said. “I’ll make a distraction so that you can sneak into the commander’s room while he’s busy.”

Cérea hid away and Tybalt went outside to cause a stampede. Soon the noise of the scared animals filled the tavern and every man jack of the Ministry Guards rushed out to gather the animals. Cérea slipped into the commander’s room and looked around for the letter. It was conveniently on the desk. Cérea read through it and left before someone could catch her.

“What did it say?” Tybalt asked when Cérea met him at the edge of the village.

“Demmi has been taken by Captain Jayne of the Jackdaws,” replied Cérea. “The letter didn’t say where we can find them, though.”

“Of course not, but the Jackdaws dock on the far shore of the lake, to the north. We should check there.”

Cérea sighed. “This is where the disguises come in, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that?”

“A lucky guess.”

“Keep that luck up, Initiate, and you may go far,” said Tybalt. “I’ll scrounge up some Jackdaw clothes and meet you there.”

\--

“Rotten, blasted, damned stupid pirates with no taste in argh!” Cérea muttered as she put on the pirate outfit. It was pink. Why did it always have to be pink?!

“You don’t like your garb?” Tybalt asked.

“Look at me! I look absolutely ridiculous!”

“Nah, you look pretty, just like a lady pirate.”

“An oxymoron if I ever heard one,” Cérea huffed and lifted her chin. “Right, let’s do this thing that I can get rid of these ridiculous rags. They better have some booze that I forget how stupid I look, or at least stop caring.”

“Booze, you say?” Tybalt said thoughtfully. “That gave me an idea.”

It was obvious that the pirates had booze and had been consuming large quantities of it. That was the only way Tybalt’s sad imitation of a pirate could have passed muster with them. Cérea thought that they would be discovered for certain, his acting was so bad. Thank goodness the pirates were much more into the idea of a drinking competition than being suspicious of the mumbling stranger that suggested it. It was left to Tybalt to search the camp while Cérea’s job was to drink ale – lots of it.

“Listen up, you seadogs. Come witness a bout to be remembered!” the second mate announced. “The bold newcomer versus your favorite cheap date, One-Drink Drake!”

“I hate you guys,” muttered Drake. He was human, a very cute one at that. Cérea would totally have bought him a drink if she’d met him at the bar before she came across Ihan. One-Drink Drake lived up to his name and was easily defeated. The same couldn’t be said for the following two contestants, an asura called Kiplr the Tippler and a charr named Grana Gruzzlemaw.

Cérea was successful in defeating all three but, as a result, she got so drunk that the rest of the mission passed her by. She remembered only a few bits from here and there. She’d summoned her minions at some point. There must have been fighting. They had probably found Demmi before she’d blacked out completely.

\--

“Ow,” Cérea moaned when she woke up. Her head hurt like never before.

“Oh, good, you’re alive.”

Cérea opened one eye to look into the face of an unknown human male. “Say something like that again and you won’t be.” She opened the other eye and got carefully into a sitting position. Her head was killing her and she felt like sharing that feeling with anyone who had the misjudgment of pissing her off.

“Here, this should make you feel better,” said a young human woman and offered her some food. Cérea looked at her suspiciously. “We met yesterday, but I understand why you wouldn’t remember me. I’m Demmi Beetlestone.”

“Did you have nice nap?” asked Tybalt, who stepped into view from behind Demmi’s back. His presence made Cérea less suspicious and she accepted the food offered to her. Eating it helped, a lot.

“Nice of you to call it a nap,” Cérea replied. “Why is it that every time I work with the order I end up wasted? Last time it was mushrooms and now this.”

“You said you wanted booze,” Tybalt pointed out. “And you won me two gold. It was worth it having to carry you all the way to the order’s safe house, which is where we are now.”

Cérea looked around. Besides Tybalt, Demmi, and the annoying human man, there was an elderly human lady. When she noticed that Cérea was looking at her, she came closer to introduce herself.

“Initiate, my name is Lady Wi. I’m the order’s agent within the Krytan ministry. This rough-looking gentleman,” she said, indicating the annoying man, “is Benn Tenstrikes, my protector.”

“I was supposed to get Demmi safely out of Divinity’s Reach, but I got sacked by Ministry Guards,” Benn said.

It took no time at all for Lady Wi to deduce Commander Landon had found Demmi because Caudecus had been tracking his daughter via an enchantment he’d placed on the neckless she always wore. Its effect was dampened by the safe house, but she’d be at risk as soon as she left it.

“Tybalt, Initiate, you must take Demmi to the Chantry of Secrets right away. She’ll be safe there,” Lady Wi concluded.

“Your father’s little trick could be useful to us, Demmi,” Cérea pointed out. “If Commander Landon is following the enchantment, we can use it to mislead him.”

“Clever,” Tybalt said and nodded approvingly. “Now, let’s work out the details so we can get Demmi out of here, safe and sound.”

They considered their options and decided to use a decoy with the neckless while Benn would take the real Demmi to safety.

When the conference was over, Benn approached Cérea. “So they let Tybalt out of his cave! You must be special, Cérea. I’ve even heard your name, here and there.”

Cérea raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“They say you fought the nightmare before you were even born, and that you’re fated to take down Zhaitan. That’s my kind of destiny!”

“Your kind of destiny?” Cérea asked. It was obvious, the man was an idiot.

“Yeah, to come into the world to kick ass, meant for greatness.”

Cérea sighed. Benn clearly needed some realities of life explained to him, but she didn’t have the energy or the motivation, so she took and pass and said, “If you say so.” She wasn’t the least bit pleased that random people knew about her Wyld Hunt. She didn’t want to be their shining hope or some crap like that. If people thought she’d do all the work, they’d sit on their hands and wait for her to kill Zhaitan while they complained about how slowly she was getting the job done.

\--

“Burn me, I’m a human girl! Whoa, I’ve got two hands and some lovely… apples,” the Demmi-looking Tybalt said with his normal voice while feeling out his temporary breasts.

Cérea was trying very hard not to laugh. “I think they might notice something is wrong if you keep doing that, Demmi,” she said. “Let’s go roam the city and see if the Ministry Guards take the bait.”

“Bait, huh?” Tybalt said and gave a try at swinging his hips. “I can handle that. The order booked passage in Demmi’s name on a ship called the Harpy’s Smile. We’ll head there and see what happens.”

“We should be careful,” Cérea said and summoned her minions. “The Ministry Guards will be serious about keeping Demmi quiet.”

“I didn’t join the Order of Whispers to sit behind a desk,” Tybalt said. “I joined it to fight dragons.”

“That’s something we have in common then,” Cérea said and they shared a smile.

“If we’re going to fight for Tyria, we’ll need Kryta – and Queen Jennah. Heh. Isn’t it funny? Me, a charr, risking my life for the security of the human throne.”

“The world’s a funny place, Demmi. As long as we keep laughing, at least we’re not dead.”

“There she is! That’s Lady Beetlestone! Get her, now!”

It was not a nice and quiet stroll in the night after that. Ministry Guards were littered on their path all the way to the docks. Cérea and Tybalt had many opportunities to get acquainted with each other’s style of fighting. Tybalt, though an engineer, was not found of using gadgets. He preferred his rifle.

“What was that you just did?” Tybalt asked at one point.

“What was what?”

“You went all black green and mushy at the edges, like your cloud with all the eyes,” he explained, pointing at her shadow fiend.

“It’s my death shroud,” she replied. “It’s a special state necromancers can enter when they have enough life force. It works as a second health pool and it’s awesome. How is it possible that you’ve never seen that before?”

“I used to work at a desk. And you didn’t do that when we were fighting the pirates.”

“I was drunk out of my mind. I’m surprised I even walked, let alone fought anything but nausea.”

Tybalt laughed. “It was pretty funny watching you trying to do magic when you couldn’t speak without slurring.”

“Keep laughing all you want, buddy. Next time it’s your turn,” Cérea said. “But back to the quest at hand. I think we’re close to the docks now.”

A sizeable group of Ministry Guards was waiting for them at the docks, but to no avail – they dealt with them and hurried the decoy to the ship.

“Well, hello there, lovely!” the captain said to Tybalt. “Are you here to board my barge? Heh, heh.”

Cérea rolled her eyes.

“Oh, brother. I fought off Ministry Guards for this?” Tybalt groaned.

“Come aboard, miss. Right this way. It’s a pleasure to have such a pretty young thing gracing the Harpy’s Smile.”

Cérea grabbed the captain by the collar and pulled his face down to hers so that he couldn’t run away when she cast fear on him and said, “You keep your canoe in your pants, sailor, or I will see to it that you end up sailing the seas of the netherworld. And feel free to pass that along.”

When she let go of the man, he was pale and shaking. He almost ran into the ship and got some questioning looks from his shipmates. The word would spread and they’d leave Tybalt alone, which had been the idea. Cérea had no trust in Tybalt’s ability to act like a noblewoman for the duration of the journey, especially if he had to fend off flirting sailors the whole time.

“That was funny,” the grinning Tybalt commented.

“It was. Off with you now, Demmi. Have a safe trip.”

\--

All three of them reached the Chantry of Secret in safety, though they knew that Commander Landon wouldn’t give up. Demmi didn’t want to hide away. She wanted to be free of Landon and her father’s control and manipulation. They agreed to make a stand and get rid of the chasers for good.

“I’ve made my choice,” Demmi said. “I’m going to join the Order of Whispers. I can’t just sit idly by anymore.”

“Good for you,” Cérea said. She felt like more was expected of her. “We need people who take the threat of the dragons seriously.”

Demmi smiled tensely, clutching the rifle Tybalt had given her. Cérea grabbed her scythe and made sure to position herself behind Demmi – she would rather not be killed by friendly fire.

“There’s nowhere left to run, Lady Beetlestone. Surrender or die,” yelled Commander Landon who’d caught up with them.

“Tell my father I’m not his little girl anymore. I’m free, Landon. Free of him – and free of you,” Demmi replied.

“Lady Beetlestone, if you think a few apple barrels will stop me, you’re going to be disappointed,” Landon mocked, proving that Caudecus did not pay him for thinking. Any soldier with half a brain in his head would have questioned the content of the suspiciously placed barrels. Landon was not one of them; he charged right through the barrels, getting caught in the blast when the explosives under the apples went off. After that it was an easy fight.

“I can’t thank you two enough. You saved my life – and you’ve given me a purpose. I’ll never be a pawn again,” Demmi thrilled.

Cérea shook her head at the woman’s naivety, but wished her well. The three of them went into the cave that served as the Chantry of Secrets. Cérea and Tybalt met the Preceptors, who were pleased with how things had turned out. They promised to keep Tybalt in field duty, made Cérea a full agent, and assigned the two of them as partners.

“Agent Cérea… That sounds good. Congratulations,” Tybalt said when they left the Chantry.

“Thanks, you too,” Cérea replied. “It must feel good to get away from that desk.”

“You have no idea,” Tybalt said, chills running down his spine. It was quite a massive movement to witness on a charr scale. “But you could, if you buy me that cider.”

“Deal,” Cérea promised. “Lion’s Arch okay?”

“More than okay, buddy. Are you going to have a drink with me?”

“Something purely, absolutely, 100% non-alcoholic.”

Tybalt’s huge laugh made Cérea smile. They would get along just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the beginning, I always planned to write Ihan off at around this point for a couple of reasons. One is that after you meet him in the human lvl 30 personal story, he never makes another appearance (I've kept an eye out, trust me). I didn't want to kill him, so I thought that a transfer to Orr would make more sense. The second reason has to do with what I've planned for the main romance arch of this story, so more about that later.
> 
> Whispers agents bring to mind the Swiss Guard. They look like complete idiots but are actually kickass soldiers by training.
> 
> Tybalt's acting ability is pitiful. I don't see how he could credibly pass as anyone other than someone trying to act. Other than that and the apple thing he's quite nice.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback :)


	7. Zhaitan Won't Die By Stealth

”…and that’s the true story of how I landed behind a desk,” Tybalt finished.

Cérea laughed. “That’s quite a tale, Tybalt. Cheers!”

“Ain’t it?” Tybalt replied and swung his tail. “The ladies love it.”

“No, I meant your story.”

“You did? But you gotta admit, the tail’s great, too.”

“Yes, as tails go, it’s great.”

“’As tails go’? I’ll have you know that everyone should have a tail. I dunno how you can keep balance without one.”

“I bet you don’t, seeing how drunk you are, my furry friend,” said she. “I’d like to see you keep balance with it at present. It might be time to leave the bar and go to sleep.”

“Sleep is for… for… Er… What’s that human word again? You said it but I forgot.”

“Pussies. Which, I might add, you are, so off you go.”

“What? I ain’t no pussy.”

“You are a cat, hence, you are a pussy. It comes from pussycat,” Cérea explained. She’d tell the other meanings later. “Come on, tiger, let’s say goodbye to the nice bartender and get you to bed.”

The human bartender grinned at them. It had to be pretty funny, Cérea thought; a slim sylvari trying to support a full-grown male charr who was falling asleep. She herself was dreadfully tired from all that had happened and was definitely not in full control of her faculties.

They were making slow progress through the streets when Tybalt suddenly stopped.

“I got the best idea ever!” he declared.

“Does it have to do with sleeping? Because I could get behind that one.”

“We should go explore Ascalon together! We could do the partner thing, eat some apples, and kill tons of ghosts!”

“That’s a great idea!”

\--

“This was a horrible idea!” Cérea yelled as she dodged away from where the fists of a giant purple creature landed. Crystals flew in the air and shattered when they hit the ground.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Tybalt replied from a distance and shot at the branded that was attacking her.

Cérea huffed and blew in her warhorn to release a swarm of locusts on the beast. That only worked to enrage it further and another rain of crystals followed. Some more effort was required before the creature fell down.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She sighed and looked around. The area the branded creatures habited in Blazeridge Steppes was murky and covered in dark fog. It was like Orr in its way, though not as irreparably lost.

“This place is all wrong,” she said.

“I’m surprised you think so. You fit right in.”

“Because of all the times I’ve thrown crystals at random people and tried to crush them with my huge fists?”

“You wear the same color.”

Cérea glanced at her clothes. “I hadn’t noticed that, but you have a point. Maybe I should find a branded crystal and wear it as an accessory.”

“You help me kill all the branded we run into and I promise to make you a pair of earrings out of them,” Tybalt promised.

“You’re a jeweler, too? Is it some weird Whispers Agent thing?”

“Jewelry is useful if you do it right,” replied Tybalt. “And I rock at it.”

“Great. Where to next?”

“Get it? I ‘rock’ at jewelry.”

“Most amusing,” Cérea said. Sure, it was a crappy joke, but she had to smile at his earnestness. Despite all the branded they’d had fun. Ascalon offered much more variety in hostile creatures than Maguuma. Blazeridge Steppes had it all – branded, beasts, Inquest, harpies, ogres, skritt, grawl, ghosts, separatists… At least it didn’t get boring and not once had she been asked to plant flowers or stuff like that. They had tried pit fighting with a group of armored charr cheering them on. They had set ghosts and branded against each other, which Cérea had enjoyed. The drake fishing had been interesting, too.

Cérea had known about the issues still brewing between charr and humans, but the reality was laid before when she and Tybalt had a task to prevent fights between people who were supposed to work together. Every patrol was made of a human and a charr and every such patrol seemed ready to blow up at the slightest instigation.

“I feel sorry for the commander, I really do,” she said when they had left the fortress behind.

“Yeah. It’s hard to work with that many people whose heads are up their asses,” Tybalt replied.

“You never said truer words.”

“Wanna kill some ogres?”

“Let’s.”

They were in the middle of doing that when a big group of people ran past them, chasing a see-through giant. The chasers yelled, jumped around, and waved their weapons uselessly while they passed. Big orange blotches appeared in their wake.

“What was that about?” Tybalt asked when the strange crowd had passed.

“It’s shiny, so it has to be gold?” Cérea suggested and shrugged. “Beats me.”

An asura needed them to mess with grawl for some reason and had an interesting idea for doing it.

“You look like no raven I ever saw,” Tybalt managed in between laughing at Cérea’s appearance when she was under the raven illusion.

“Right back at you, beaky,” she replied. “I have trouble believing even the grawl will buy this. But before we test that, I have to try one thing.”

Cérea jumped off a rock. The illusion didn’t give her the ability to fly like a raven, but her raven form with the ghostly glider was so hilarious she had to wait for Tybalt to stop laughing before they could get to business.

“Agh! Devourers look particularly disturbing from this close to the ground,” Cérea pointed out.

“I don’t wanna think about that,” Tybalt replied. “I hate them even when looking down on them.”

During the following days they noticed that all the orders of Tyria were doing something or other in the area. The Vigil was killing stuff. The Priory was tinkering with ghosts and forbidden knowledge, as was their way. A Whispers Agent had been captured by the Inquest, so Tybalt and Cérea helped his colleague to bust him out.

In Lowland Burns a mighty shadow passed by them.

“Was that a…?”

“Dragon!”

“It’s the Shatterer! To arms!”

The area was full of commotion. Adventurers and soldiers of all races and professions combined their efforts to bring down the dragon and its minions. Tybalt and Cérea joined the efforts – Tybalt took a turret and Cérea took part in the assault on the ground and in the air, trying to keep the monster from flying. It was a ferocious fight. Branded minions rampaged around, making it difficult to concentrate on the Shatterer. People fell under them while others were enclosed in crystal prisons. Battle cries and screams of the dying were nigh drowned amid the sounds of the monsters. The skirmishing humans and charr should come here and see this, Cérea thought when she saw the amount of cooperation and acts of kindness the battle produced. There were acts of douchery, too, but that was to be expected. Not everyone was capable of working together to achieve a goal, even a shared one.

The Shatterer fell. A cheer went up and a ghost of a smile could be seen on the gloomiest of faces.

“That was exhilarating!” Cérea said out loud in the throng of people next to the fallen dragon.

A human thief looked at his watch. “We made bad time,” he said. “Noobs should have kept to the schedule better; it got into the air once. That’s a fail.”

“Okay, dude, enjoy your outlook on life,” Cérea replied, grabbed her loot, and left him be.

“That is one awesome gun!” Tybalt informed her when she went to meet him. “I’m gonna build me one of those when I get home.”

“Where are you going to put it?”

Tybalt sized up the machine. “I think I could fit it next to the bed… if I keep the door open for the barrel. Or I could put it on the roof…”

“You can draw up some plans at the inn. Come one, we’ve earned a decent supper and a good night’s rest.”

The next morning they ran across an asura who wanted them to collect harpy glands. It was easily done, but Cérea made the crucial mistake of asking him what he planned to do with the glands.

“I’m making a perfume,” he replied.

Cérea felt ill. “Remind me never to wear perfume,” she told Tybalt.

“Likewise.”

The Ash Legion had the most onerous assignment so far.

“Stealth? You want me to do stealth?” Cérea asked in a tone of disbelief.

“We need the practice, as do you,” the Ash Legion Scout replied, unabashed by her reaction.

“You can’t do stealth with minions!” she argued and pointed at her flesh golem. “Look at that one! How is that stealth?”

“You could have sneaked several feet while I was looking at that. Why are you still standing there? Go on, be stealthy and stop wasting your time and mine!”

Cérea muttered but went ahead and tried to be stealthy. She gave it her best effort, but it simply wasn’t her thing. It was depressing how bad she was at it.

“Don’t worry,” Tybalt said and patted her on the back. “You’re great at killing the stuff that sees you. They end up dead and you don’t, which is all that matters in the end.”

“Thanks, Tybalt.”

They ran across an ogre village that was not after their blood but their help. Cérea felt awkward helping them when she thought of how many ogres she’d killed since coming to Ascalon. Not that they’d given her much of a choice, but still. It didn’t matter, though. They were friendly enough and they were willing to pay for the help, so she grabbed a hammer and started to build them some pet houses.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Tybalt asked when he surveyed her work.

“It’s a tiny shed made of wood,” she replied. “Doesn’t exactly take an engineer to build one.”

“Definitely not,” Tybalt said and they both eyed the one he’d made. A chicken pecked at it and it fell to the ground. Cérea gave him a look. “I’m not that kind of an engineer,” Tybalt defended himself. “I’m a combat engineer. I dunno squat about building… you know, buildings. It’s a whole different whaddaya call it? Discipline.”

“It’s okay, Tybalt,” Cérea promised him. “I can’t sneak, you can’t build pet houses, but it doesn’t matter. That’s what partners are for, right?”

“To keep each other’s secrets?”

“I was going to say ‘help each other out’, but sure, that too.”

They left the ogre village and found a proper place to sit down and eat something.

“I think we’re done with Blazeridge Steppes,” Cérea said. “All in all, it wasn’t so bad.”

“Fields of Ruin tomorrow?”

“I might end up regretting this… but sure, let’s do it.”

\--

Fields of Ruin was much less exciting than Blazeridge Steppes. Most of the stuff there had to do with humans who wanted to keep hating charr and charr who wanted to keep hating humans. The ever ongoing ogre war also contributed to the scenery. Tybalt and Cérea took down a couple of ogre chieftains, but there would undoubtedly be others to replace them. Branded had some ground to themselves near the northern edge of the area, which made it all the more surprising to find a forgotten green zone in a corner of purple crystal country.

Cérea breathed in the smell of grass. “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” Tybalt said. He sat down and lied back on the ground. He ran his paws through the grass, appreciating the different texture to the coldness and hardness of the crystals that surrounded the oasis. He purred.

“That’s a first,” Cérea commented with a smile.

“Try it before you fry it.”

She lied down next to her partner and closed her eyes. She could feel the soothing peace of the area. The place of power in the middle of it was radiating its influence. She sighed contentedly.

“Told you,” Tybalt murmured. “Let’s have a little nap.”

“Agreed. We can kill things later. By the way – you look adorable when you sleep.”

“Bite me.”

\--

“Is there a reason why all the buildings are made of metal?”

“Why shouldn’t they be?” Tybalt asked. “They’re built to last.”

“Yes, but they do seem very bleak,” Cérea opined. “There is no color anywhere. Nothing is pretty or comfortable, everything is boring and machined.”

“What are you talking about? There’s a recruitment poster right there.”

“My mistake, I didn’t notice the poster. That makes the whole place feel homey.”

Tybalt shrugged. “What can I say? I was born in Ascalon, it’s home to me. Sure, every building around here looks the same, but so what? It means that I’ll feel at home anywhere there is a solid iron floor under my paws and a grey roof over my head. Don’t you feel that way about the Grove and Maguuma? They are all green and flowery.”

“The Grove is my home, sure, but… I don’t know how to put it. I guess you could say that I don’t feel at home there. That’s why I live in Shaemoor. It’s more to my taste.”

“You don’t feel at home at your home? Don’t you know what ‘home’ means?”

“Perhaps I don’t. What does home mean to you?”

“Ugh, I didn’t think you’d ask me that,” replied Tybalt. “Home is, you know, home. It’s where you live, where you’re from, where you can be happy or sad, where you feel at ease, where you belong. I may live in Lion’s Arch, but my home is in Ascalon.”

“Thank you, Tybalt. I will think about what you’ve said.”

The arrival of Cérea’s Ghostly Mail Carrier made them drop the subject. Tybalt got a message by raven. The notes contained the same information about their next mission for the Order of Whispers.

“Harathi Hinterlands, huh?” Tybalt mused. “I’ve never been there. I can’t say that I’m a big fan of centaurs.”

Cérea took out her map and looked up where they were headed. “We are meeting the skritt at the far edge of the area, so it will take you a couple of days to get there. Would you mind if I met you there? I need to do some crafting before getting into anything bigger.”

“No problem, partner. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“See you then. Take care, Tybalt.”

\--

At first Cérea felt strange being in Shaemoor without Ihan, but the feeling passed in time. She’d been busy since they’d said goodbye and time had lessened the loss. After her travels she found it a comfort to just sleep in her own bed. It had been several weeks since she’d last had the pleasure. She woke up refreshed, which was good because she had a grim job to do. Crafting was not a favorite pastime of hers but it was a necessity. She needed new clothes and weapons. There was also her eternity project called Nevermore. She was certain that should she live long enough, the damned weapon would claim her sanity one day.

She’d planned on doing the crafting in Divinity’s Reach, but Tybalt’s praise of home had made her think. Maybe she needed to give the Grove a second chance. Caithe was akin to her, and she found peace and comfort in their shared place of origin. Maybe she’d learn to like it in time, which would never happen if she didn’t spend any time there. She decided to give the Grove a go and do her crafting there, maybe see Caithe if she was around.

\--

Trahearne was walking pensively across the Grove when something peculiar caught his attention. Someone was cursing. The sound of profanity was so incongruous with the environment that he grew curious of its source. The home of the sylvary certainly collected various travelers of all races to spend time in its serenity, but great many of them were wary of disturbing said serenity. Trahearne reoriented his gait towards the sounds of displeasure.

He found the originator without trouble. The young valiant – or wasn’t it agent now? – was hunched over her backpack, muttering curses as she sought something that apparently eluded her touch. He wondered what would be so reluctant to being found by her as to incur her wrath.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Cérea, though I see that something troubles you. May I be of service?”

She was surprised to be addressed and jumped a little before looking up. As soon as she did, a beautiful smile brightened her features. Trahearne was pleased to see that smile again. The memory of it had visited his reflections often during the past weeks, which had led him to wonder what she had been doing. She had been to the Grove so rarely that he hadn’t had the opportunity of improving their acquaintance as much as he wished.

“It’s good to see you, too, Trahearne,” she replied. “And thanks for the offer, but I doubt even you can make crafting suck less.”

“What about it is giving you trouble?”

“I keep running out of stuff just when I’m about to finish something. It’s infuriating.”

Trahearne looked around. “Yes, I think you have been explicit on that point. You used many words your brothers and sisters have never heard before.”

She seemed to realize only then how vehement she had been. If she had been human, she would have blushed. “Whoops. Maybe I should have done my crafting in Divinity’s Reach after all. At least I wouldn’t be corrupting anyone there with my bad language, for that’s where I learned it.”

“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” Trahearne calmed her. “You have merely broadened their vocabulary. You don’t cause corruption, you fight it when you oppose the Elder Dragons and their minions.”

Her expression turned solemn. “I can’t see how anyone can avoid doing that. I returned from Ascalon yesterday. Branded have done unspeakable things there, both to the residents and the landscape. The charr keep fighting them, but it doesn’t look like it makes any difference. I feel bad for you because of your Wyld Hunt.”

Trahearne was surprised. “What brought that to your mind?”

“The lost parts of Ascalon are not that different from Orr, only smaller. They have been almost destroyed thanks to the corruption of an Elder Dragon. Orr is worse. How is such a place ever to be cleansed?”

He sighed. “I do not know. How is Zhaitan to be defeated?”

“Beats me,” replied she. “I know for a fact that it isn’t going to be by stealth. I absolutely suck at that.”

“Working with the Order of Whispers hasn’t made you an infiltrator?” he asked with a smile.

“Apparently not.”

“I’m not one to sneak around either. I prefer to avoid conflict whenever possible but when it comes down to fighting, I won’t hide away. Besides, minions are difficult to hide.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” she said, beaming at him. They shared a moment of understanding. There was something there, some sympathy of souls, a connection Trahearne could feel in the core of his being. It was the most peculiar feeling. She seemed to feel it too if he interpreted the look in her eyes correctly. The moment was gone when they blinked, but the feeling remained.

“Would you… do me the honor of sharing tales of your travels over a meal?” he asked. “I should imagine that it would bring a welcome respite to your crafting anguish?”

“I’d love that,” she replied. “I want to hear more about your studies of Orr. Your research has made you quite famous, you know.”

Trahearne was momentarily baffled. “How so? I am merely a researcher among others.”

“Not many have dedicated their lives to studying Orr.”

“I wouldn’t say dedicated…” his voice trailed off. He wouldn’t say it, but it was accurate. What else of note had he done during his existence but study Orr?

“Oh, crap, I bummed you out,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean to do that, I meant to give you a compliment. Knowledge is always precious, yours even more so now that Zhaitan’s influence is spreading over Tyria. You are widely known and respected because of your life’s work and because you’re so great and kind and...” She seemed to catch herself and stopped talking. She cleared her throat before saying, “Like I said, it was a compliment.”

He smiled at her and offered her his arm. “Then I shall take it as such. Thank you, Cérea. I would be happy to tell you of my studies at lunch if you’d care to come with me.”

She grinned at him and took the arm he’d offered. They went to the terrace to eat and to enjoy each other’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charr are adorable when they sleep and amusing when they're surprised.
> 
> I like killing World Bosses, but there's almost always some jackass complaining about people doing it wrong. I feel that it would be preferable to instruct than to insult, but that might be my pedagogical studies talking.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback. I hope you pleasant expectation of the PoF launch :)


	8. Friends Worth Having

”You look happy,” Tybalt commented when Cérea met him in Harathi Hinterlands. “I thought you hated crafting. And here I was, making you something to cheer you up.” He handed her something that was purple, spiky, and shiny.

“Tybalt, thank you, it’s beautiful! What… is it?”

“A backpack made of Branded Crystals,” he replied. “You were such a good sport, killing those Branded with me and I thought it would look nice with your clothes and all…”

“Thank you! That’s so kind of you,” said she and put it on. It went well with her dress. “You have an eye for this kind of stuff.”

“Hey, don’t spread that around,” he shushed her. “That’s not really something I wanna be known for.”

“As you wish,” she replied. “How was your trip?”

“Centaurs are annoying.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But they don’t throw stuff at me when I shoot them, which is more than could be said for the Branded. And everything isn’t covered in ominous fog,” Tybalt said and shrugged. “You had fun?”

“It wasn’t quite as bad as I’d expected,” Cérea admitted. “By the way, you inspired me about that whole home business, so I went to craft in the Grove just for kicks, which turned out to be a fabulous idea. I ran across a friend and we had a good time hanging out.”

“Yeah? Anyone I know?”

“Are you familiar with Trahearne?”

“Sure, he’s a friend,” Tybalt said, a bit to her surprise. “He used to come around often to exchange information and chat with people at the Chantry.”

“Trahearne knows where the Chantry is? I thought he wasn’t a member.”

“He’s not, but he’s Trahearne.”

“Right… I have to say, for an organization that puts so much effort into keeping stuff secret, the location of our secret headquarters doesn’t seem particularly well guarded. Even when the argument is as apt as ‘he’s Trahearne’,” said Cérea and waived her hand to fend off Tybalt’s counterarguments. “Not that I don’t trust him to keep it a secret, but still.”

“Everyone trusts him for a reason,” Tybalt said. “Should we get on with the skritt business? They don’t have a lot of brains, but they do have a lot of random junk. If we keep standing here, they might start throwing it at us.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

They went into the mountain and found a spacy cave.

“Sneaky charr! Almost as quiet as skritt. Come, see what we found,” one of them enthused and signaled them to follow.

“Sure, I’d love to see it,” Tybalt replied.

“Yes. Many shinies, from the roly-polies. Follow! Found dwarven shinies, yes, yes? Maybe you trade to take them home?”

The bottom of the cave was filled with destroyer eggs, only waiting to burst. Cérea readied her weapons and called her minions to her side from wherever they had been wandering.

“A roly-poly artifact?” Tybalt said. “Huh. I don’t think these belonged to the dwarves. Where did you find them?”

“Tchkik found many, deep, deep down in a cave. Going back to get more.”

Cérea noticed that the eggs began to shake.

“Tybalt, your ass is going to be on fire in three, two, one…”

\--

A mighty explosion shook the cave and its environs.

“My people. My friends. All dead,” the head skritt lamented. “Once was chatter and happy stories. Now, just silence. Too much silence.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cérea. “Your people were brave. They died protecting their friends and family.”

“At least we were able to take out the queen and her eggs. I know this is hard to hear, but it is a victory,” Tybalt concluded. “Ftokchak, the Order of Whispers can’t bring back your loved ones, but you can help us stop this from happening to others. We need allies like you.”

“Destroyers hunted us below. We lost many. Ran here. Now, here they are. I see there can be no more running. My village will join your cause.”

“Thank you,” Cérea said. “Stay safe.”

They left the skritt cave behind. Cérea took a deep breath of fresh air.

“That could have gone better,” she said.

“It could’ve been worse,” replied Tybalt and shuddered. “That explosion…”

“I know,” said she and patted him on the back. “You were a sport. It’s not easy, getting the best of your fears and giving them the finger, but you did it. Nice work, my furry friend.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Sure you would, but thanks,” she said. “What now?”

“We should let HQ know that we have new allies. I’ll send them word,” he replied. “But if you have nothing better to do, I have an idea. It’s a project I’ve been meaning to do for a long time, but I’ve always… let’s say ‘lost my nerve’. It would help if you were there.”

“Okay, sounds ominous enough. What is it?”

\--

“Why do I always let you talk me into these things?” Cérea asked as she was balancing high up on a too small rock, wishing that she could see something besides the enveloping blackness.

“I’m Whispers,” replied Tybalt from somewhere ahead. “It’s my job to talk people into things they don’t wanna do.”

“Like jumping into a deep, stalagmite-filled hole with only a shallow pool to land in?”

“We survived, didn’t we?”

“Following a disembodied voice through walls and dodging spikes?”

“It went swimmingly.”

Cérea chuckled mirthlessly. “I wish I had your faith in everything going well.”

They cleared the dark room by going slowly and making sure each jump would land securely on the next platform. The next room was lit by three torches, each a different color. There were three exits.

“This looks like a fun game,” Cérea said drily. “I should imagine that one leads to the end, another to the beginning, and the third to a certain death. You wouldn’t happen to have a cheat sheet on what’s what, would you?”

“You know what, the guy who told me about this place mentioned something about those torches. Wait a sec,” Tybalt said and rummaged through his pockets. He came up with a small, crumpled piece of paper. He straightened it out and brought it close to his muzzle. “Don’t’yer know it, can’t read my own writing…”

Cérea extended her hand and he gave her the piece. His writing was poor indeed, but she could just make out two words and read them aloud. “Green, goodies.”

“Great,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go.”

Tybalt went through the green arch. Cérea followed him, shaking her head. It was worth a shot and what else was there to do? They arrived at a small plateau that was over a waterfall. A ghostly pirate was keeping post there. Cérea readied her weapon, which turned out to be unnecessary. The ghost was a merchant.

Tybalt looked at his wares with the widest of grins on his face. “This is what we came here for,” he beamed at her.

“For weapons of inferior quality?”

“For cool weapons! I can use the skins to make better ones – I mean, look at these!”

She went closer to look at what had made him so eager. “They do have a certain rustic, piratic charm to them,” she admitted.

“Yargh! I wanna hit people with this!” he stated, practically jumping up on down while holding a hammer in the shape of an anchor. “I’m gonna get this and learn to use it. Oooh, look at this one! You have to get this one!” he said, swinging around a scepter that consisted of crude sticks and a human skull.

Cérea was so touched by his genuine enthusiasm at the artifact and his pleasure of thinking her using it that she bought it. It was a memento of their crazy day in a place she would never have ventured into on her own. Tybalt was more than pleased by their adventure and its rewards.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Dinner is on me, my friend.”

“Thanks for speaking me into it. This was fun.”

“Good, because I have some other ideas…”

“Mother Tree help me,” Cérea said before smiling jocundly. “Tell me about these ideas.”

\--

The next morning Cérea received a letter.

“Dear Cérea,

It was a pleasure to spend more time with you, a pleasure I was looking forward to enjoying again very soon. But alas, a most distressing development in Orr is calling me away presently. There is news of mobilization. I have to see for myself to be sure. Should this news prove correct, I fear what it would mean for Tyria.

We will meet again; our Wyld Hunts are linked. You will hear from me ere long.

Your affectionate friend,   
Trahearne.”

Cérea cursed Orr. Why was it bent on calling away all men she wanted to spend time with? Before long Tybalt would have to go. But the news was troubling. If the undead were mobilizing, it could only mean that they meant to do something big. Zhaitan’s minions were hardly planning to go for a package tour and spend some quality time together, seeing the sights and sending postcards to the ones who’d stayed behind because they couldn’t get off work. Or if they were, that would be a sight to see…

She chuckled drily at the mental image. At least it was better than thinking Ihan and Trahearne being chased by undead giants. She needed to do something to distract herself and to keep herself busy.

\--

“Something troubles you,” Caithe observed. She’d been happy to hear from Cérea and agreed to meet her in the Grove to catch up. They were sitting on the roof of a green building, looking at the vista below.

“I could say that same of you,” Cérea replied. “Have you heard from the other members of Destiny’s Edge?”

“We don’t keep in contact, but every now and again we have to help each other out. The disarray of Tyria goes nowhere if nothing is done about it. We all acknowledge that.”

“That’s good.”

“But you sidestepped my inquiry. What is it that makes you more grave than usual?”

“Rotten Orr,” Cérea huffed. “There’s something big brewing there, and I don’t like it.”

“I thought you were eager to face Zhaitan. Why do you waver now that the time is approaching?”

“I’d rather not speculate. I fear I’d learn something about myself I’d prefer to keep in the dark.”

“You jest,” said Caithe. “To mask fear or something else?”

The younger sylvari sighed. She saw that Caithe would not be deterred. “It’s being ‘the chosen one’ that I detest,” she said. “Everyone expects me to do great things, to defeat an Elder Dragon, destroy its army, save the whole Tyria, and look good while doing it. I have been around the world and faced opponents that made me feel my inadequacy. What am I to stand before an Elder Dragon and hope to survive, let alone win? It doesn’t make a bit of a difference that I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“At least you already look good, so that’s one thing down,” Caithe said, making her friend smile. “A lot is riding on you, I admit, but no one expects you to accomplish it alone. All the orders are committed to helping and many other groups besides them. Even people who are not motivated by altruism are driven into fighting the undead by their self-interest. Zhaitan’s triumph would be a loss to everyone.”

“I like your logic. I dearly hope it will prevail when the time comes.”

Caithe looked solemn. “Sometimes logic is all we have. Then it is awfully tempting not to listen to it.”

Cérea examined her countenance. There was a flash of deep sorrow and regret, probably loss, too. “And follow your heart instead of your head?” she ventured.

“What does one’s heart know? More often than not it’s torn to different directions, to different and opposing loyalties. What good is that to anyone?” mused Caithe, seeming angry at herself for something. “But I digress. What I meant to say is that you are not alone in this. Believe that.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a pain, acquiring that backpack, but now I have it \o/ It's a bit cumbersome when examined from behind, but rather pretty from the front.
> 
> The mission with the skritt is not particularly interesting and not necessary for the plot, so I chose to skip it. I hope you don't mind. Should you be curious, it is properly laid out in Wiki.
> 
> I like those pirate weapon skins. I have a few, though I'm not certain if I have that scepter skin or not. The hammer I have and it was fun when I had it on my revenant.
> 
> The Path of Fire demo opened yesterday, as I'm sure you know. I tried it enough to see what it is like. I like the mount and the bounties, having already enjoyed bounty hunting in Tyria. The map is pretty and I'm curious to see how the story will continue.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback :) Enjoy the demo and the expectation of the full PoF.


	9. So It Begins

”What rotten idiot keeps breeze-riders as pets?” Cérea muttered as one of the creatures zapped her painfully. “Not even rangers do that, and they’ll hug anything.”

“Yeng has a way with animals,” Tybalt said. “Or had. He wouldn’t have left his beasts.”

“Which would suggest that he hasn’t defected. He’s either been taken or killed.”

There was another wave of frightened animals.

“Looks like they’re running from something,” Tybalt noted. “Whatever’s back there, it’s meaner than they are and scarier than us.”

The corridor came to an end. There were several cages, all of them empty. The body of Yeng Isen lied on the floor, trampled. Cérea bent down to check for vital signs, though she was sure she’d find none. Yeng had been forced to leave his animals for good.

“Wow, he’s seen better days,” Tybalt commented.

“He’s still warm,” said Cérea. “He hasn’t been dead long.”

“Whatever killed him might still be-“

Tybalt was cut off by a creature the like of which Cérea had never seen before. It looked like a dragon in death shroud – it was see-through with a green tint. When it charged past her, she felt the tingle of the undead. It was fearsome and furious, but no match for the two of them. It fell to the ground next to the remains of its last victim.

“It’s Orrian! That monster was from Orr! It can’t be – not here. Not in Lion’s Arch!”

“Calm down, Tybalt. Have you seen one of those before?”

“It’s really rare, some kind of special scout. I read about the other sighting of one when I worked the file rooms. That matches the description perfectly.”

Cérea kicked at the massive corpse. “I have trouble believing that capable of anything akin to intelligent attempt, but I have no doubt that it was Orrian. I could feel Zhaitan’s influence on it. If it is indeed some scout, what does that mean?”

“The operative saw it in Port Stalwart just before Zhaitan’s minions wiped out the town,” Tybalt replied, his voice hollow. “Zhaitan only sends them when he’s about to send in his whole army. Lion’s Arch is in danger!”

Cérea felt cold. “We need to get word to someone who can do something about this. The two of us have little chance of holding back a massive invasion.”

“We need to warn the Lionguard. Let’s get to Claw Island. It’s the last defense against invasion from the sea.”

“I’m right behind you,” Cérea said. A thought struck her when they were hurrying towards the port. “Trahearne mentioned something about a mobilization in Orr. He went there to investigate.”

“Crap. I hate it when I’m right.”

\--

The fortress of Claw Island looked solid and adamant in the daylight. Cérea hoped that it would prove to be such.

“We need to find the Watch Commander and convince him to ready the defenses,” Tybalt said.

On the way to the fortress, they caught snippets of conversations. All sorts of forebodings were about, making people itchy and jumpy. Something ominous was happening. At the gate they found the Watch Commander, arguing with Trahearne. Cérea was pleased, though a little surprised, to see him. Maybe he could convince the Lionguard of the seriousness of the threat.

“I’ve researched the situation extensively. The Orrians will strike here, on Claw Island,” Trahearne said. “This is an ill wind that comes from the south and I fear that it heralds the end of Lion’s Arch.”

“It’s good to see you, Trahearne,” Cérea said and turned to the Watch Commander whose name she’d caught on the way. “Watch Commander Talon. We are with the Order of Whispers and have grave news. One of Zhaitan’s minions breached the city. We destroyed it, but the creature was likely scouting for a much bigger force because a similar monster performed that task in the destruction of Port Stalwart. An attack is imminent, as I am certain Firstborn Trahearne has already told you.”

“A what? That’s extremely unlikely. We’ve seen no sign of an impending attack. If there was one, we’d know of it,” the huge charr replied.

“Commander Talon, I can confirm their information,” Trahearne stated. “Zhaitan’s servants are indeed approaching. A fleet of Dead Ships has launched from the Straits of Devastation. The Risen sail beneath a cloak of stealth.”

“Whatever you’ve seen, it can’t be a real threat. Claw Island can withstand any assault!” the commander boasted, elevated by pride for his fortress. “But speak with my commanders, Brakk and Mira, if you must. Once you review our defenses, you’ll realize there’s nothing to fear.”

Trahearne shook his head when they headed towards the battlements.

“It’s good to see you both,” said he, “though I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“It could be worse,” Tybalt replied. “At least I’m out and about on a mission!”

“A field agent at last! Congratulations, Tybalt. I know how much you wanted that,” he said and gave Cérea a smile. “You couldn’t ask for a better partner, my friend. Cérea has made quite the name for herself in such a short time.”

Tybalt laughed. “You should get out from under all those books and join us. You’re starting to look all wilted.”

“That is an enticing offer,” Trahearne replied with a fleeing smile. “I fear today will make warriors or legends of us all.” He turned to Cérea. “Can you feel the chill in the air?”

She nodded. “And the nearness of the undead.”

“You can feel that?” Tybalt asked.

“It’s a necromancer thing,” she replied. “If you’re curious, I can explain it one day, but this is probably not the time.”

They talked to Deputy Brakk, who informed them that everything was ready for an attack. Deputy Mira was on the beach.

“Welcome to beach patrol, the most dangerous duty on Claw Island,” she said.

“Deputy, a massive attack is on its way from Orr,” Trahearne informed her. “You must prepare your troops.”

“If we fall, our last order is to light those three signal towers,” Mira said, pointing the towers out. “We have to warn Lion’s Arch if the fortress is lost. In a hundred years, they’ve never once been lit. We’re very proud of that.”

“You had to go and say that…” Cérea muttered and sighed.

“Deputy Mira! Sound the alarm, there are undead on the beach!”

And that’s how it all began.

\--

Cérea sat in the ship, staring into nothing, trying to escape the memories of what had happened. How the first attack had been a feint. How Talon would not believe in the reality of the threat before it was too late. How the giant abominations had smashed the poor Lionguard like wax dolls. How the fleet of Dead Ships had appeared from underwater, making the joy of sinking one ship a fleeing dream. How she’d lit the towers to tell the world of their defeat. How endless the fight against the Orrians had felt when two had spawned where one had been slain. How she and Trahearne had been forced to fight back to back to keep each other alive. How the giant dragon had appeared and roared, making them feel their inadequacy, failure, and loss. How they had been forced to retreat with their wounded. And, worst of all, how Tybalt had marched into certain death despite her protests. The sight of the doors closing behind his back would not leave her as long as she lived.

She was pulled out of her trance when Trahearne sat next to her, put his arm around her, and pulled her to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he leaned his head on hers.

“I’m sorry about Tybalt,” he said. “I understand you had grown close.”

“I’m sorry, too. You knew him longer than I did.” Cérea’s eyes were moist. It hurt in a way she had no words for, but she couldn’t grieve now. “Nothing but death and corruption comes from Orr. I’m glad that you got away alive.”

Trahearne squeezed her a little to say thanks. “The evacuation should already have started.”

Cérea’s Ghostly Mail Carrier appeared in front of them and bowed. She took the letter the apparition offered. Another bow and the ghost was gone.

“He makes me feel strangely at peace,” Trahearne said. “Even after this life there can be a purpose.”

“That’s what I think,” she replied and read the letter. “The order wants me at Lion’s Arch. We need to protect the city long enough for civilians to be evacuated.”

“That is important. Not everyone can take care of themselves. The helpless need to be protected,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”

“Thank you.”

\--

The Trader’s Forum was swarming with agents and preceptors.

“Lightbringer – I’ve heard rumors that Tybalt Leftpaw is dead. Can you confirm?” Doern Velazquez asked.

“He stood the line to let us escape, preceptor,” Cérea replied.

“Tybalt didn’t think he had any courage. He proved himself wrong in the end,” Riel Darkwater said.

“He won’t be forgotten, but now duty calls,” stated Doern. “The Lionguard is evacuating the populace, the Durmand Priory safeguards the harbor, and the Vigil musters at Fort Marriner.”

“Very well,” commented Halvora Snapdagger. “We need more information. Each lightbringer will patrol a section of the city for Zhaitan’s scouts.”

“I’ll take the Canal Ward,” Cérea offered. “Undead will be coming out of the sea. If they’re sending scouts, I’ll find them there.”

“Good,” the charr replied. “We need a complete sweep, lightbringers. Watch for anything strange, but stay alert for danger.”

Cérea headed towards her section, summoning her minions on the way. 

“I hope you excuse my tagging along,” said Trahearne, who’d followed her from the meeting. “I would prefer not to leave you alone in all this.”

“I appreciate the thought and the company, though I fear I’ll have precious little leisure to enjoy it.”

And she was right. Small groups of various kinds of undead turned up to harass looters and more innocent bystanders. Some of the undead were efficiently annoying but presented no real trouble.

“Ugh, krait bug me to no end,” Cérea grumbled. “I detest that pulling thing they do. It breaks my flow.”

“That’s why they do it,” Trahearne said. “Necromancers have a similar trick, you know.”

“I know. I should try mastering it one of these days.”

“But for now the canals are secure. We should return to the preceptors.”

The preceptors were pleased with the progress. Some of the lightbringers were still finishing up, but no major trouble was expected for the moment.

“Preceptor, the time has come to fight. We can’t hold back Zhaitan alone, we need backup,” Cérea pointed out.

“Benn Tenstrikes refuses to divulge my whereabouts to my father, so the Ministry has tossed him into prison for his trouble. He’d help us, if he still lives,” Demmi said.

“I have another alternative,” Agent Batanga offered. “We are currently sheltering an asuran scientist named Gorr. His inventions would be an advantage.”

“I was thinking more on the lines of asking the Priory and the Vigil to help, instead of one prisoner or a scientist with questionable ethics, but okay…” Cérea said with a sigh. How much difference would either of those options make?

“Of course the other orders will join the fight,” Doern said. “Any help besides that is welcome. Choose one plan and carry it through.”

Cérea asked more about the weapon Gorr had developed. It worked on the theory that dragons consume magic as they consume flesh and even stone. The weapon hit them in their gullet, which sounded a whole lot better than busting Benn out of jail since Cérea had no love for him. War would not miss one man, especially when the man was an ass.

“I want to obtain this weapon for the order,” Cérea informed Agent Batanga.

“An excellent choice. You’ll find Gorr at his lab in Rata Sum. He’s an incomprehensible assemblage of wow wrapped in a three-foot package. You’ll see.”

“I’m on my way.”

“I’ll stand with you,” Trahearne informed her.

“You’d better run with me if you want to keep up,” she replied while hurrying towards the asura gates. “I’m not sure if I remembered to thank you for your aid on Claw Island. It would have been even worse without you.”

“I wish I could have done more. It was a travesty. I will join you in your future efforts to help guarantee success. I do not wish to see you that sad again.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, though I can’t help but feel that the future has buttloads of sadness in store for all of us.”

“Buttloads? Another human expression? It is illogical; a rear end cannot contain a sizeable amount of anything.”

“I doubt they were going for accuracy with that one,” she replied and stepped through the asura gate. Rata Sum looked like it ever did. There was no sign of the war, yet. They found Gorr outside his lab.

“Gorr looks beside himself,” Trahearne noted. “Is it me, or does his lab seem full of Orrian undead?”

“Oh, goody, he’s one of those kinds of scientists…” Cérea said, rolling her eyes, and approached the asura. “Excuse me, but I have a shipment of apples for a ‘Gorr’. Are you Gorr?”

“I certainly hope I’m Gorr – I’m wearing his underwear!”

“At least it’s not on your head.”

“Exactly! You must be my Order of Whispers contact. I’m to say ‘buckets of fun’ in response.”

“To the apple thing, yes. I hope it has nothing to do with your underwear,” Cérea said. “But that’s beside the point. We need your weapon.”

“As you can see, there’s trouble,” Gorr replied and waved his hand towards his undead-filled lab. “I’m developing a weapon based on my theory of draconic enchanto-consumption. Essentially, it removes the magic from a person or object, poisons it, and then transfers it back. Hypothetically, the Vacuumagic Polarizer will reverse the magical essence of Zhaitan’s tangible will within the Risen, and therefore, destroy them.”

“A cunning idea,” Trahearne commented. “Does the weapon work?”

“Theoretically. My associates at the Upsilon Facility sent me test subjects, but the creatures… erm… got away, as you can see.”

“Who’d have thought,” Cérea said dryly. “We’ll take care of that for you. If you give us those weapons, we can test them on the Risen.”

Gorr showed them to the weapon rack and the sylvari took one each.

“I look forward to seeing this weapon’s capabilities,” Trahearne said. “They must be quite impressive.”

“I’m not a gun-enthusiast, but I guess this one is worth a try,” Cérea remarked. “Though holding one makes me feel angry and aggressive and very concerned about my right to bear arms.”

Trahearne glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Let’s be quick about this.”

Gorr released the creatures at them in waves. He was very happy with the weapon’s capabilities, as was Cérea. She shot and laughed, even charged towards the huge Orrian gorilla that was in the final wave, an affair which could have had an ugly ending if Trahearne had not pushed her to safety. He killed the gorilla, giving her time to get her breathing under control before finishing the rest of the creatures. When all the undead were gone, Trahearne extended his hand towards Cérea, looking expectant. She gave the gun to him and was rewarded with a smile. She gave her shadow fiend a brief hug and decided to stay away from guns. She didn’t like what they brought up in her.

“Magnificent! The Vacuumagic Polarizer destroyed the Risen… Er, hm, and my lab. Ah, well, that’s what apprentices are for,” Gorr said.

“Your weapon was extremely effective against the servants of Zhaitan,” Cérea agreed. “It’ll be a great help in recapturing Claw Island.”

“I’ll take the prototypes to Lion’s Arch immediately. It’s the least I can do. The Order of Whispers saved my life.”

The sylvari said their goodbyes and headed towards the asura gates.

“The Orrians are firmly entrenched. It will be difficult to regain Claw Island,” Trahearne pondered.

“I know. And they have a huge dragon on their side,” Cérea sighed. “But we have to try. The price of doing nothing is too dear.”

“I’m not giving up hope. In fact, I’m counting on hope to lead the way. To that end, we should ask wisdom from the Pale Tree.”

“Are you sure that would be beneficial? With all due respect, the weapons are on their way right now, as are the soldiers. We should join them as soon as possible. Why do you want to go to the Grove?”

“It takes more to win a war than weapons. The people who hold them are more important. The ability to win begins from us and we began with Mother Tree. Her wisdom has often guided me to places I would not have dreamed of going to on my own.”

Cérea was still hesitant. She didn’t think even Mother Tree had much to offer, but Trahearne seemed so certain. Power was all well and good, but it did matter who wielded it. A weapon was no use in the hands of one who knew not what to do with it. She was in the middle of her deliberations when a firm, warm hand took hers. She looked up at the confident expression of Trahearne.

“Trust me,” he said.

She squeezed his hand and allowed him to guide her towards her native home against her better judgment. It might be folly, but at least they were being foolish together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fare thee well, Tybalt.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback :)


	10. Dream And Doubt

”Mother Tree, I am sure by now you have heard of the destruction at Claw Island. Zhaitan is attacking in force,” Trahearne said.

“The soul of Tyria mourned as her children were cut down by the beast. The land wept and the world shuddered,” the Tree replied.

“My friend and I seek to right that wrong. We wish to fight Zhaitan and take back what was lost. We’ve come to ask your counsel,” Trahearne explained.

“The answer is at the heart of Tyria’s future – and your own. Both of you must face the darkness, become guiding stars in the night,” said the Tree and looked at Cérea. “That is what your name foretells, my child.”

“Is it even possible to defeat Zhaitan, Mother?” Cérea asked.

“Only with great courage,” was the reply. “Come, I will show you a vision of your future and the challenges to come.”

“What do you mean by vision?” Cérea inquired.

The Avatar of the Tree created a blueish portal in the chamber. “This portal is a passage into the Dream. There you will see glimpses of the past, the present, and the future. You will see Orr as it is, was – and some sense of how you may restore it, I hope.”

Cérea noticed how Trahearne twitched at hearing this. He was still stern and steady, but she could tell that he was agitated and eager to go, yet hesitating.

“Am I ready to see such truths?” he asked out loud, though it felt as if he was talking more to himself than to them.

Cérea took his hand again and guided him through the portal.

\--

Even though Cérea had never been to Orr, she recognized it the moment they arrived through the portal. Everything was dead. Desperation surrounded the place like a veil. The Dream affected the colors, but that didn’t lessen the deep deprivation the scenery cried out.

“Orr is a dark and foul place,” Trahearne said. “Even though I have been here, in truth this vision is unsettling. Let us hurry. The Mother Tree has lessons yet to be revealed and she cannot maintain this shard of the Dream for very long. We must press onward.”

They continued on a path, hand in hand. Cérea looked about her. “We’re not going to run into Zhaitan, are we?”

“That is highly unlikely. Zhaitan commands his minions from the blasphemed and tarnished city of Arah, far to the south.”

“This place feels all wrong.”

“It was once beautiful. The human gods lived in the city of Arah, and people were blessed. After the gods left, the humans banded into guilds and warred upon each other, causing great devastation.”

“What? Humans destroyed Orr themselves? I was under the impression that Zhaitan did that.”

“There’s more to it than that. The humans were fighting each other, which made a perfect opportunity for the charr to attack. They ravaged Ascalon and marched on Orr. As hope failed, an Orrian named Vizier Khilbron read the Lost Scrolls and unleashed an ancient curse. The curse annihilated the charr army, but it destroyed Orr as well. A cataclysm plunged the nation into the ocean. Everything was lost. Zhaitan pulled Orr from the depths for his own use,” Trahearne said. “Here is the Avatar of the Tree.”

“This road leads to the ancient city of Arah, the dragon’s stronghold. That is your goal.”

“Of course it is,” Cérea said drily.

“Along the way, you will glimpse things that may yet come to pass.”

“These creatures are formidable. Tougher than the ones at Claw Island. How will we defeat them?” Trahearne asked.

“Alone, you cannot,” the Tree replied. “But with unity, you will find that many impossible things can be achieved.”

Trahearne and Cérea continued their journey. They came upon a fortress that was full of representatives from the three orders. A vision of Trahearne was giving them a rousing speech about beating the dragon together. The ghostly fighters were impressed by his words and shouted in unison as a result, ready for action.

Trahearne himself was not quite as impressed. “Is this a vision of the future? Mother, I do not understand. I’m no general.”

“You must be what Tyria needs you to be, my son,” the avatar answered. “You have more courage than you realize.”

The avatar vanished again, leaving the two of them staring at the ghostly fighters who were charging into battle against risen.

“Courage alone is a poor defense against Zhaitan,” Trahearne said.

“I know. Courage will get one killed,” Cérea replied. “But you have so much more than that. You have knowledge and skill and you’ve survived long, which means that you must be a competent fighter and survivalist, as well. As to being a general, you do give good speeches about hope and destiny and sticking together. Me, I’d go, ‘If we don’t kill Zhaitan, we’re all fucked’. I doubt that would motivate many to join the cause and fight for their lives. You care so deeply about so many people and things it amazes- -“

He cut her speech off by pulling her to him and kissing her. It wasn’t a hesitant kiss or a modest one. It was full of fire. His firm lips moved eagerly against hers, the friction creating even more warmth. Their tongues met like long-lost lovers.

At last they had to disengage. She rested her head against his neck while she listened to the tempo of his quickened breathing and smiled the smile of a woman whose dream has come true. Despite the surroundings and the darkness of the future, she felt warm and safe in his embrace.

“You make me sound like a hero I do not believe myself to be,” he said and kissed her temple. “I hope I will find the strength not to disappoint you.”

“Never worry about that,” she told him. “I just want you to survive. Speaking of survival – should we help our ghostly friends kill some ghostly monsters?”

Trahearne chuckled. “By all means.”

Their companions had already done away with most of the undead by the time the two sylvari joined the fight. All that was left of the opposition was one giant and one undead grunt that was, for some reason, stuck in a tree. It was extremely difficult to hit, but fell at last. The remaining ghostly fighters returned to their fortress and the couple continued on their path to meet another Avatar of the Tree.

“The past taints the future. Our heroes have fallen. They must be redeemed. You are the catalyst. You must bring them together. Heal their wounds.”

What followed was visions of Destiny’s Edge, bickering. There were unresolved issues and grievances, all stemming from their unsuccessful fight against an Elder Dragon. None of it was news to Cérea until she came to the vision of Caithe and found her with Faolain, the leader of the Nightmare Court.

“I’ve tried so very hard. They can’t stop arguing. They can’t understand that the dragons are more important,” Caithe said. “They’d throw everything away. I’m alone – and I’m tired.”

“Come back to me,” Faolain replied. “If the world must end, let us spend our last days in each other’s arms.”

“Caithe and Faolain?”

“Yes, they love each other. Have since the beginning.”

“I had no idea,” Cérea said. “This explains so much about Caithe.”

“She carries with her a deep sorrow.”

“I can see why.”

As they walked onward, Cérea thought of Caithe. She was a zealous defender of the Dream and the Grove, ready to employ any means necessary to keep them safe. Her lover had chosen the opposite path. Someone who cared less would have found another love, one more worthy. Caithe had not. She mourned and turned her sorrow into a shield against the world, though there were moments when old longing broke through that shield and pulled her towards the one who held fast to her heart. Cérea had witnessed such a moment when they’d last met in the Grove. She felt deeply sorry for her friend.

They met the last king of Orr. After they defeated a vision of the Eye of Zhaitan, the king told them that defeating Zhaitan was possible but that would not help Orr. If they wanted to cleanse the land, they had to find the source.

“The source? Do you know what that means?” Cérea asked.

“No, but I will certainly look into it once we deal with Claw Island. This is a lead the like of which I have never before found. I must remember to thank Mother for showing this to us.”

The Avatar of the Tree was waiting for them near massive stairs.

“Your last challenge on the road to Arah will be the guardian of the gate. Beyond this… I cannot foretell.” Caladbolg appeared in her hands. “Once before, I gave this sword to a beloved son. Now, I pass it on to you, Trahearne. Bear it with honor and the sword will never fail you. Test yourselves against the guardian, then return to me in the Grove.”

The guardian waited for them at the top of the stairs.

“That’s one huge dude.”

“Yes, but we can defeat him together.”

“After you, general.”

Trahearne gave her a crooked smile and attacked. The guardian was a determined opponent. He came at you unflinchingly. If you missed a dodge or happened to be where his attack landed, you found yourself on the ground, unable to escape. Cérea was happy that she had a good staff that enabled her to cast from a safe distance and keep moving away from the enemy who was following her persistently.

“Ugh, why does he keep following me?”

“You are an attractive woman,” Trahearne replied from a safe distance.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the compliment, but there is a time and a place, and being chased by a huge, pain in the ass guardian is definitely neither.”

“I disagree. I should always tell you that you are enchanting, because one day I might not be able to.”

Cérea smiled. She stopped to cast a final spell on the guardian, who then fell to the ground to rise no more. She would have answered Trahearne, but the vision disappeared with the guardian and they found themselves back in the Omphalos Chamber.

“Orr has had all hope stripped from it,” the avatar said. “To confront the dragon you must first overcome your greatest fear, lest you be consumed by it. Tell me, what do you fear, Cérea?”

“Failing in my task,” she replied promptly. She feared that she wouldn’t be able to kill Zhaitan and save Trahearne. She was afraid that her nightmare would become reality.

The avatar nodded. “You have taken your Wyld Hunt to heart. But to know the future, even a mere possibility, can be a great burden. I am sorry, my brave children, that you must walk this path.”

“Must these things come to pass, Mother?” Trahearne asked. “Must I take up Caladbolg and travel into the heart of Orr?”

“You must both take up this mantle. Trahearne, your duty is to cleanse Orr. Cérea shall aid you… and then face the dragon.”

“And Claw Island?” Cérea asked, because that issue was more urgent. “Can we retake it and save Lion’s Arch?”

“I believe so… but that will not be your first test. The dragon seeks to destroy its enemies before they can strike. I see within the Dream that Zhaitan’s forces enter battle – not against Lion’s Arch, but at the heart of your order.”

“The Chantry of Secrets?” Cérea asked. “Even Zhaitan knows where it is? That really is the most inaptly named place in Tyria, unless they were going for sarcasm. I have to go and help them. We’ve lost too many people already.”

“I will go with you,” Trahearne said and squeezed her hand. “Our fates are bound together, and from this day forward, we fight as one.”

\--

The alarms were blaring when they got to the Chantry. Demmi arrived almost at the same time.

“Why are the alarms sounding?” she asked.

“The Pale Tree warned us that Zhaitan’s forces would attack the HQ,” Cérea replied. “The risen have already gotten here and triggered the defenses.”

“If the preceptors are still inside, they’re trapped,” Trahearne pointed out. “The dragon’s minions are single-minded. They won’t stop until everyone inside is dead.”

“Not if we get there in time,” Cérea said. “Demmi, can you find an override?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Demmi managed to undo the barrier that had been keeping them from the fight. They cleared the antechamber of risen and security turrets, but then another portal stopped their progress.

“Any ideas?” Cérea asked, looking at the lock. 

Demmi shook her head. “Tybalt made it, that’s all I can say.”

“All things Tybalt are somehow about apples, though I didn’t have time to find out why,” Cérea said. “Let’s see…”

There was an alphabetical lock on the mechanism. She typed in ‘apples’. The lock opened.

“Thanks, my furry friend,” she said with a sad smile.

It seemed that they arrived in the nick of time. The preceptors were surrounded by groups of undead that would have prevailed if it hadn’t been for their arrival. Riel was the only one who’d managed to stay out of the crosshairs by sneaking around. When the fight gave them a respite, they gathered at the central annex.

“We thought we’d be safe in the annex,” Halvora said. “The portal was sealed, the corridor defenses activated – but the Orrians burrowed through the walls.”

“There must be some way to seal the tunnels so that the undead can’t reach the chantry. Or some way to escape,” Cérea said.

“Impossible. We’re trapped here.”

“No, Halvora, there is a way,” Riel said. “During the chantry’s construction, the Master of Secrets planted explosives in the island’s foundation. A safeguard. If the chantry were seized by our enemies, it would be destroyed. To ensure secrecy, the preceptors were not told, though each Master of Whispers did pass the information to their successor.”

“Is there a way to use the devices in a way that does not mean that we die with the risen?” Cérea asked. Getting buried under tons and tons of rocks was not how she’d want to go.

“We can alter the device to detonate only the explosives in the Orrian tunnels, not those beneath this chamber. Lightbringer, this task falls to you,” Riel ordered.

Cérea nodded and went to work. She was definitely not the most tech-savvy in the bunch, but this was not the time to stand around debating issues. Besides, Riel was apparently the big boss, which meant that she wore her ridiculous outfit by her own choice. Go figure.

Cérea ran around fiddling with the devices while the others and her minions fought the risen that were coming through the walls. Wherever she went, they seemed to spawn right in front of her, making her almost trip on them. Maybe they all needed a hug.

“EXPLOSIVES RECALIBRATED. ODDS OF COLLAPSING MAIN CHAMBER: 50 PERCENT. CONTINUE?” the detonation device inquired.

“Sure, why not. People always tell me that I should adopt a more optimistic outlook on life,” Cérea said and pressed the button.

There was a mighty boom. Cérea opened her eyes to discover that she was alive. Maybe optimism worked some of the time.

“Did it work? Are we safe?” Demmi asked.

“We’re alive,” Cérea answered. “I’d take that as a good sign.”

“The tunnels are collapsed,” Riel stated.

“I advise you not to let your guard down just yet,” Trahearne said. “Something must have been close to the surface when the explosion occurred. It’s breaking through!”

A risen wizard was upon them in an instant, but, with all of them bearing down on it with fury, it did not live long.

“Friends and companions, the day is ours! The chantry is safe!” Riel declared. 

“Now that’s done, we should get to Lion’s Arch and join the other orders. We need to work together to reclaim Claw Island and win this war,” Cérea said.

“Speak one word and the Priory scholars won’t shut up for days. The Vigil’s even worse – those thickwits can barely form complete sentences,” Doern huffed.

“And Whispers Agents disappear as soon as there is any trouble,” Cérea replied. “We’ve all heard the stereotypes. It doesn’t matter. None of the orders is capable of doing this on their own.”

“Every order has their way of fighting the dragons. We should be allies,” Trahearne affirmed.

“There are risks, but if you’re sure others will cooperate… it could benefit us,” Riel pondered. “I trust you, Lightbringer, and I trust Trahearne. Some years ago, he and I worked together to defeat my predecessor, who had been corrupted by the dragons. Since then, Trahearne has kept my identity a secret. Go to the others, set up a meeting. Tell them that the Order of Whispers is stepping out of the shadows and wishes to collaborate.”

“Thank you.”

Cérea and Trahearne left the chantry and headed towards Lion’s Arch.

“You do get around, don’t you?” she said. “Fighting Elder Dragons, defeating corrupted masters, studying Orr, hanging out at the Grove…”

“Yet I’ve done nothing to stop this devastation,” he replied. “Am I at fault? Should I have done more with my knowledge of Orr?”

“None of this is your fault, Trahearne. It’s all Zhaitan and his minions. As great and knowledgeable as you are, you are only one man. It’s illogical for you to place blame on yourself.”

“I know. But I have my moments of doubt, just like everyone else.”

“Whenever you feel like having another one, come to me. I’ll tell you how great you are and kick your ass into gear from that cold pool of self-doubt.”

Trahearne laughed. “I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the amount of in-game dialogue, I deemed it necessary. I took some liberties with it, though. I don't like the "greatest fear" choices the Pale Tree gives you which is why I wrote my own.
> 
> One time I had a bugged risen in a tree. It took forever to kill, but the story wouldn't go on before I did.
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot that I've been meaning to tell you about the name. Cérea is a feminized derivative of cereus. "Night-blooming cereus is the common name referring to a large number of flowering ceroid cacti that bloom at night." (Wikipedia.)
> 
> What had me boggled is this: if Riel killed the previous Master of Secrets, when did he tell her about those bombs? Were his last words, "I regret what I have done. Riel, you are the master now, so remember to always wear a top that stays on with a sticker between your boobs. And by the way, the chantry was rigged with bombs when it was build. Argh-"?
> 
> Anyway... Thanks for reading and feedback :)


	11. Taking Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter! Sorry. I've been busy/lazy/playing PoF.

”So, I see Gixx stumbled out of his library, and the preceptor crawled out of her hole!” General Almorra’s voice boomed on the pier. Cérea grunted. The party had already started and everyone there seemed a few drinks ahead of them, ready to make trouble. The supposed wise leaders of the orders of Tyria were bickering like little children when there was a genuine crisis with a very real enemy waiting for them. She wanted to knock their heads together, though that would be quite difficult. Maybe she could shove Gixx’ head into Almorra’s mouth and then knock her head at Halvora’s?

Trahearne was with her. “Enough bickering, all of you!” he commanded. “Our real enemy lurks across the waves. Zhaitan’s servants march at the gates of Lion’s Arch. We must band together, or we will all be destroyed.”

“We all want to see Zhaitan defeated, but none of us can do it alone. We need to work together and combine the courage of the Vigil, the cunning of Whispers, and the knowledge of the Priory if we want to triumph,” Cérea stated.

“You’re correct,” Gixx admitted. “Knowledge is useless if it is not used. We shall aid you.”

“The Order of Whispers has worked for generations to bring nations together. We can do no less now. Our blades are yours,” Halvora promised.

“The Vigil fears nothing! Not even ill-tempered, undisciplined louts like these two,” General Almorra declared. “We’ll join, but I insist there’s a decent hierarchy. Who will lead this compact?”

Gixx looked pensive. “Logic dictates that it cannot be a member of any of our orders, lest one be seen as above the other two.”

“I have a candidate,” Cérea said and turned to Trahearne. “Firstborn, you’ve never joined an order, yet they all respect you, for a good reason. You have the makings of a great leader and you’ve studied Orr all your life. There is no better option. Will you lead us?”

Trahearne sighed. “I never wanted to be a soldier, only a humble seeker of truth. But… yes, if this is what Tyria needs of me, I will lead this pact to the gates of Arah, and together we will see Zhaitan destroyed. But first, to Claw Island. Let us send our defiant message straight into the heart of Orr: Tyria stands as one!”

There were cheers, though moderate ones. Cérea smiled at the man of her dreams. He was going to be great at this – she could never have said stuff like that with a straight face.

Their army began boarding the ships. Trahearne was looking at his troops with a stern expression. Cérea went to stand by him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“All my life, I’ve watched Orr,” he said, staring at the sea. “Studied it, researched the abominations that Zhaitan spawns.” Cérea tried to push off the mental image of Zhaitan ‘spawning’ abominations. “I have avoided the challenge of my Wyld Hunt. I hid, always claiming that I was not yet ready. I did not think Orr could be cleansed. I feared failure.”

“For a good reason,” she replied. “You’ve acted with reason, Trahearne. There is no blame in that.”

“Maybe you’re right. But the time to act has come. We’ll either cleanse the land… or return to it,” he said and looked at her. “Leading this conjoined force will be a difficult task. This is the destiny the Pale Tree foresaw.”

“Don’t worry, you can do it,” she reassured him. “I’ll be right beside you, kicking some undead ass. Or did you think that I’d let you have all the fun?”

There was a brief smile that Cérea treasured and a quick squeezing of her hand which she committed to memory. Such moments were valuable to people with destinies such as theirs. She smiled back at him and headed towards the ship.

\--

When they were close to the destination, a strategy meeting took place. Trahearne, or Marshal Trahearne, as they called him, discussed the plan with the liaisons from the orders while Cérea listened in. The Priory had brought a big, shiny machine to break down the gates.

“It’s improvised, off-the-cuff, and madcap… But you know, it just might work,” Wynnet said with a shrug. “Still, there are far too many undead between here and the signal tower we need to amplify it.”

“Leave that part to me,” Warmaster Efut said. “The Vigil may not understand your boo-boo-matic wheeze calculator, but we know plenty about killing the undead.”

Cérea smiled despite herself. You had to admire the statement’s asuran confidence that had a genuine Vigil twist.

“Then we have a plan,” Trahearne summed up. “Commander Efut, move out. Your crusaders can guide the way.”

The plan was put in motion. The Vigil went ahead while another group moved along with Agent Zott, who was tasked with carrying the machine and setting it up and running. Cérea and her minions led the second group. Fighting was going on all around them which made progress slow. The undead occupiers were less than pleased to see them come. Neither were they content to sit on their hands while the capacitator was attached. They screamed and spat and hacked and whatever else it was that undead usually did. At least they died at the end of it, giving their life force to Cérea’s disposal. It made her a little smug to be killing them with the power of their passed allies.

“Aha! Hold onto your helms!” Agent Zott yelled. “One reconstulated configurer, coming up!”

A bright beam shot from the signal tower and blew the massive gate into pieces. A cheer went up.

“Ready Vacuumagic Polarizers!” Professor Gorr enthused. “Prepare to suck! Er… Hm…”

Cérea gave him a look. “I have to say, professor, I have heard more convincing battle cries.”

“It’s the Vacuumagic Polarizers that count, agent,” he replied. “They suck like there’s no tomorrow.”

“You have not spent much time around humans, have you?”

“How can you tell?”

“If we survive, I’ll explain.”

The forces regrouped at the gate, or what remained of it.

“Well done,” Trahearne said. “We’ve secured the docks.”

“What about the courtyard, marshal?” Warmaster Efut asked. “That big dragon-thing will be in charge there.”

“We need to retake the ramparts and deploy siege weapons. Then we can cover the sky while we clear the courtyard,” Trahearne replied. He’d clearly been thinking about it.

“I can help there,” Wynnet said. “Priory alchemists have crafted special ammunition to weaken champions like that one. We can force the monster to the ground.”

“Once you get it down, we’ll get it dead,” Warmaster Efut promised. “Put your trust in Vigil steel.”

Trahearne turned to Cérea. “We must reach the bridge overlooking the courtyard. From there, I’ll be able to command.”

“Then I’ll be the one to get you there.”

Fighting on steps and other narrow spaces had never been much to Cérea’s liking, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed to get Trahearne up there and, by the Pale Tree, she was going to do it. She bit her lip determinedly and fought her way through the opposition. When the way was clear, she bowed to Trahearne who was right on her heels.

“The bridge is yours, marshal.”

“Thank you, Cérea,” he replied with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll coordinate and command from here. Go with Wynnet and retake the siege points. The Plaguebringer must be brought down!”

\--

The battle was fierce. Trahearne allowed himself a glace at his fearless companion every now and again, to keep his fighting spirit up, he told himself. She thrived on the battlefield. Her face lit up and glowed, even though it wasn’t night time. This was what she had been destined to and meant for – the heat of battle. She swept over her enemies like an ocean wave, adapting to the situation, but never pausing or giving up on her purpose. There was no hesitation, no lingering, no procrastination. She did what she had to do and she did it with such grace…

“We’ve taken control of the siege points, marshal,” Wynnet Fairhaired reported.

“Well done. Now to the courtyard! Push back the Risen horde!” Trahearne commanded and joined the fray.

The stragglers were dead before long. It was time for the main event.

“Prepare yourselves, troops!” Trahearne announced. “Wait for the dragon to come around, then make a coordinated strike. On my order… wait for it… Fire!”

The dragon fell from the sky with a thunderous thud.

“Charge!”

The entire army ran at the massive beast as one. Each and every one of them knew what was at stake. They had also been encouraged by the victories so far and by the losses they had seen. It was time to prove their mettle. They could only hope that they would not be found wanting.

In moments such as these, Traherne had often felt envious of humans who had their gods to pray to. This was bigger than him, bigger than all of them. This fight was one in a line that would settle the future of Tyria. He felt insignificant in the place he had been given. He wished he had someone to turn to for protection when being alone was not enough.

But, alas, this was not the time for existential angst. This was the time to fight.

\--

The Plaguebringer fell to the ground, dead. Cérea fell on her ass as she ran out of adrenalin. She needed to breathe. She should have felt relief, happiness, a sense of accomplishment, but the only thing she felt was tired. She had never been this tired. She couldn’t remember when she’d last slept. Or eaten. It had been longer than it should have been. She should teach herself to remember the necessities if she wanted to survive the war against Zhaitan.

“You okay?” a passing Vigil crusader asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Good job out there.”

She would get up, she just needed another minute to gather enough energy.

“Did you see how we sucked?” Professor Gorr asked. He had been looking at the dragon’s carcass and was walking towards the courtyard with his gun on his shoulder.

“Yes, nicely done.”

“You promised to impart knowledge on me about humans.”

“I did, didn’t I?” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll draw you a picture to demonstrate one of the meanings ‘sucking’ has for humans.” She drew a crude, but informative, picture on the sand. The professor examined it with curiosity.

“Amazing!” he said. “So… Should I inform humans--”

“Male humans.”

“Right, male humans, that I have a machine that sucks, they’d give me enough money to fund my next project?”

“And the one after that, I’d say.”

The professor left with a calculative look on his face. Cérea laughed and decided that she had been perked up enough to get up. She grunted, got on her feet, and went to look for Trahearne. She found him giving a speech about hope. She nodded and smiled. She watched as he made plans with the leaders, made the rounds, and marshaled about. She didn’t approach him until he was done.

“Ah, there you are,” he said with a faint smile on his lips. “I have been looking forward to thanking your for your contribution today. We couldn’t have won without you.”

“It’s nice of you to say that, but it’s bullshit. I was only one of the many today,” replied she. “It’s you who made the difference, marshal. You’ve earned a rest. Speaking of which,” she said and watched his tired face, “when was the last time you slept?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. On more careful examination, he had the appearance of someone who was kept standing on willpower alone, and that willpower was running on fumes. He’d collapse in a matter of moments, which would not do. His troops shouldn’t see him fall.

“You know what, marshal? We are going,” Cérea said, determined. “You have talked with everyone, you have congratulated them and whatnot. It’s time for you to sit down before you faint like a fresh sapling. Come on.”

“There are things to be done,” he tried weakly.

“None that cannot be done after a proper rest,” she replied. “We are going to catch the next boat off the island.”

She took him by the hand and marched him off towards the docks. They got a lot of salutes and cheers on the way. They were in the nick of time to catch a ship to Lion’s Arch. She found them seats and they fell down on them. She kept an eye on him, just in case. She needed him to stay awake until she found somewhere safe for him to sleep in.

“You are being very assertive,” he said.

“You can court martial me later.”

“It’s my own fault for making you the commander.”

She smiled. “That’s right. The joke’s on you, marshal.”

“You don’t have to call me that. I am and always will be Trahearne to you,” he murmured, his eyes falling shut.

“By the Pale Tree, why is Wynnet naked?” Cérea exclaimed.

Trahearne’s eyes shot open. “What?” His expression was priceless. Cérea laughed out loud.

“I can’t let you fall asleep just yet,” she said. “Besides, it’s good to know what way your branch swings.”

“What?” He looked so baffled it was endearing. She kissed his cheek, still chuckling.

“I’m sorry, at least a teeny, tiny bit. Don’t worry, we’re almost there. There’s a waypoint where we dock. We can use that.”

“Mm.”

They docked, and not a moment too soon, Cérea thought. Trahearne was hardly awake. He practically sleepwalked onto the shore and to the waypoint. She had to choose the destination. He had to have his own quarters at the Grove, but she wasn’t entirely sure where. Plus, going to the Grove would mean conversations and lots of explaining. Neither of them was up for that. The only place she could think of was her own home.

Cérea jumped them to Shaemoor. Trahearne had finally fallen asleep and she had to drag him carefully with her. Opening her door had been easier on many occasions than it was in the dark while trying to keep a fully grown male sylvari from falling over. Somehow she managed to get the door open, maneuver Trahearne inside, and shut the door behind them. She got them both to the bed. The cover was on, but she didn’t give a shit. She arranged him on it, put a pillow under his head, and settled tiredly next to him, her arm over his torso. She fell asleep instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and feedback! Sorry for the mistakes, there must be some, because I'm so tired that I first accidentally posted this chapter on a wrong story xD There was a moment of "wait, what, these characters are not in this story, oh crap!" Anyway... I'm off to play my elementalist into the desert. Try to hang in there through the autumn, people, winter is better! (Or so I wish.)


	12. The Importance of Having Fun

Trahearne opened his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. It was not made of living wood and flowers but of boards. He was definitely not in his own room in the Grove. He sat up in the bed. There were no restraints or other signs of foul play, so he had not been taken hostage. Probably. Since he was the marshal now, there was the possibility that someone would wish him out of the way, though he could not imagine the cozy room to have anything to do with Zhaitan. The question still remained – where was he and why?

Trahearne tried to remember what he could of the previous day. They had beaten the dragon minions and reclaimed Claw Island. He recalled talking with many people concerning the victory and the next step the Pact was to take, but everything got more and more blurry until his memory hit a wall. He had the feeling that he’d talked to Cérea right before falling asleep. Could this be her house? He knew that she lived among humans in Shaemoor. She wasn’t one for pointless ornaments or sentimental objects that had no use which was in line with the asceticism of the room. There was a table with two chairs, a couple of shelves, a small mirror on the wall, and the bed he was sitting on. Something white on the table caught his eye. He stretched and got up to take a closer look. It was a note written in neat but rakish letters.

“Trahearne,

I went to the city to cook some breakfast or lunch or whatever it is that they call it when you eat your first meal of the day in the freaking afternoon. Go back to sleep – you look absolutely adorable when you sleep.

Cérea

P.S. No, I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you from the horrible fate that would undoubtedly have fallen on you had I let you sleep in the mean streets of Lion’s Arch. You never know what sort of scribbles they would have drawn on your face.”

Trahearne chuckled at her words. He appreciated that she had taken care of him. It warmed him in the very core of his being that someone would bother with all this for him and do it with a twinkle in their eye.

\--

When Cérea returned home she found Trahearne at the table, reading a pile of messages. There was a touch of weariness in his eyes before he turned his attention to her and smiled. She sighed inwardly. She had wished that a good night’s sleep would put his mind at ease, but it appeared that her hope had been in vain. She knew that it was naïve to expect things to get better because of the war, but she didn’t want him to ride himself too hard. He should do that to her. The thought brought a crooked smile on her face.

“Good morning,” he greeted her. “I take it that this is your house?”

“Nah, just a random abandoned building I thought we’d crash at for the time being,” she replied and kissed his forehead. “Did you sleep well? Did those rotten centaurs wake you?”

“Yes, I slept well, thank you for asking. I don’t believe I heard one blood-curdling neigh during the night. I woke up on my own in a strange bed without remembering how I got there.”

“Oh, if I had a copper…”

His gaze was turned serious. “You do that sort of thing often?”

“Never. It’s just a joke,” she assured him. “I see that you’ve already started working. Take a break and eat something. You must be starving.”

She took some freshly cooked food from her backpack and put it on the table in front of him. He moved the letters dutifully away.

“Everything looks appetizing,” he said. “I would not have assumed that you were a cook.”

She shrugged and sat down in the free chair. “Cooking was a pain in the ass to learn but it’s a useful skill to have.”

They dug in and ate in comfortable silence because both had been starving. Once in a while they smiled at each other before they continued eating.

“What happens now?” Cérea asked after the meal.

Trahearne sighed. “There is a ruined fortress at the edge of Orr, south of the Shattercleft Hills. We will take this fortress and make it our own. We’ll rebuild it and place our banners. From there we will strike at the dragon’s heart.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I am making plans with the leaders of the orders,” Trahearne said, gesturing toward the letters on the table. “We are gathering the troops at that location. You should rest until we’re ready to proceed.”

“Is that so?” Cérea asked with her eyebrow raised. “So, in this little mental image of yours where I hang out and relax while you are killing yourself with work – how long have I been in the Nightmare Court? Is my dress pink? Because they have the worst taste in colors, I tell you.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked, looking confused.

“If I’m resting, so are you. If you’re working, so am I. I’m your commander, I’m supposed to help you.”

“But it’s mainly organizing until the troops are ready. I can do it by mail.”

“Good. Then you can come with me to have some fun before the fighting starts.”

“I couldn’t possibly…”

“Sure you can. After all, ‘it’s mainly organizing until the troops are ready. You can do it by mail.’”

“But…”

She took hold of his hand over the table and squeezed it. He turned his questioning gaze at her.

“I’m not trying to make light of things, Trahearne. I know what is at stake, trust me. But even in the time of war life should be about more than war. If it is not, war will make you into its own creature. That’s why you should remember that there are precious things in the world, like laughter, love, and candy. They keep the fighting spirit up, remind you that killing and dying isn’t all there is. I don’t want you to become a victim of war, I want you to remain you. That’s why I think it’s important that you come with me to have some fun before we storm some Orrian fortress and flip Zhaitan the bird for real.”

She could see that he was amused by her words but also that he saw that she had a point. He lifted his hand to her cheek and caressed it with a gentle smile on his face.

“I see that there is nothing for me to do but concede,” he said. “What would you have us do?”

Cérea grinned. “I have some thoughts.”

\--

“I am floating in a giant water bubble,” Trahearne said aloud, like he couldn’t believe it.

“I know. It’s fun, isn’t it?” Cérea replied from her own bubble. She was cruising around the small room, going round and round and laughing out loud.

“You’re supposed to douse the flames,” an asura said pointedly.

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Cérea replied. She charged her bubble at Trahearne’s. When the bubbles collided there was a slight ‘pop’ as they burst and both sylvari fell on the floor with grins on their faces.

“Hrpmh,” the sour asura muttered.

“At least we put out one flame,” Cérea said, unabashed, and went to the machine that made the bubbles. She wanted another go, as did Trahearne. He looked like he was enjoying himself and not thinking about the impending war, which had been the idea. She was happy with the result, and this was only the first stop in her “Making Trahearne Smile Again” plan. Hopefully it would lead to her “Taking Trahearne to Bed to Do More Than Sleep” plan, but she was in no rush to get that one going. They would enjoy the ride.

\--

“Aww, these little guys are always so cute,” Cérea purred at the snow leopard cubs.

“I take it that you visit this place often?” Trahearne asked as he petted one of the cubs with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, every once in a while if I need a pick-me-up. You can’t feel bummed when you hang out with these adorable cuties,” she replied and chuckled when the one of the cubs licked her face with its tiny tongue.

“Have you thought about getting a puppy?”

“I move around too much to care for one,” she answered with a sigh. “Minions will have to do for me.”

“You could take it with you on your adventures,” he pointed out. “You should consider it. It would be worth the trouble, seeing how happy they make you.” He liked seeing her this happy and carefree.

She smiled at him. “I’ll give it some thought. Do you want to see my second favorite thing to do when I come here?”

“Certainly.”

Cérea grinned and went to have a word with the Shaman. In an instant she was turned into a snow leopard. She walked gracefully to Trahearne and sat down in front of him. He crouched down and petted her head. She rubbed against his hand, purring. Then she got up, turned around, and jumped off the cliff. Trahearne let out a distressed sound and hurried to see what had happened to her. He saw the leopard glide slowly towards the ground, making circles as it went. He could imagine the excited sound she would have made, had she been capable in her current form. Her paws touched the ground and she looked up at him with a feline grin. Then she ran up the hill and did the same thing again. She looked like she was having so much fun that Trahearne figured it would not hurt to try. He asked the Shaman to transform him, too. 

It was an experience, moving on four legs instead of two, and having fur. The world looked different through snow leopard’s senses. Trahearne spent some time examining himself and his surroundings. Everything was new and interesting. Another leopard came to smell him and then rubbed itself against him. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew it, but he knew that it was Cérea. She licked him and purred which he reciprocated. It felt right and good. Then she waved her head towards the cliff, wanting him to follow her. He was a little hesitant about jumping after her, but did it anyway. It turned out that it had been the right choice. Feeling the air in his whiskers, the wind moving his hairs… The freedom of flying was so much more intense an experience as a leopard than it was as a sylvari. He purred while he and Cérea circled around each other in the air while the ground got inevitably closer. He had to do that again.

\--

“So far we’ve done stuff that I’ve found fun. I figured we should do something that you’d find fun for a change.”

“But I have enjoyed everything we’ve done so far,” Trahearne protested.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Cérea replied. “None the less, here is something that I assume you would enjoy more than I.”

She waved a hand towards the asura gates and the researchers working on them. Everyone seemed busy.

“What is it that they do here?” Trahearne asked. “Some sort of asura gate research?”

“Something along those lines, yes. That’s why they need help doing math – something I have no pleasure in, but I thought you might like it.”

“I do enjoy the occasional mathematical challenge,” Trahearne admitted, “though I would much rather do something that we can perform together.”

“Don’t worry about that. I need to clean my inventory anyway. You go help the asura and have some fun with their calculations. I’ll keep myself busy and hope that something ghastly comes through those gates so that I can kill it.”

Cérea shooed Trahearne towards the lattice configurators and sat down to look at what her backpack had swollen. She was in the habit of tossing everything in there without a second glance because you never knew what would be valuable. Most of the stuff was useless, but at least you got some coin from it. Every now and again she looked up from her inventory to see what Trahearne was doing. He seemed engrossed in the calculations and enraptured by the experiments the asura were conducting. The researchers were happy that someone was so interested in their work and keen on listening to whatever they had to say about it.

Cérea decided that everything was going well without her input. She found a nice, quiet place to lie down on. She put one of her bone minions under her head as a pillow and pulled another into her side to keep her warm. She fell asleep with a smile.

Cérea was woken up by something licking her face. “Trahearne?” she asked groggily. When she opened her eyes she saw a cow staring at her. She got up and stretched. She had no idea how long she’d been napping, but it looked like the night had fallen. She went to look for Trahearne and found him in the lab. He was helping a couple of asura test an asura gate that was probably not working as intended, seeing as icebrood were spewing out of it. She helped them fight the dragon minions off until there were no more.

“Hey, where have you been hiding?” Trahearne asked her and kissed her cheek.

“I took a nap,” she replied. “How was your day?”

“Fascinating. I’ve learned so much. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Cérea smiled at him. His happiness was worth the boredom. “You’re welcome. I think we should leave now, but I have something else in mind for tomorrow.”

\--

“What has happened to Lion’s Arch?” Trahearne asked as they got into the city the next day. It was gloomy and ominous. There were mysterious, ghostly doors around the place, and disturbing decorations. The Mystic Forge – commonly known as ‘the toilet’ – looked like a cauldron. People wore strange clothes and laughed maniacally every now and again.

“The Mad King is back,” Cérea replied. “You know? Mad King Thorn? Giant human dude with a head like a pumpkin? The worst husband and parent in history? Comes back into the world of the living every year to scare the crap out of people who have never been outside the city?”

“Why does he do this?”

“Who knows? Maybe he found afterlife boring,” she guessed with a shrug. “Anyways, you want to go kill some of his minions in the mists?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“He has candy.”

“I’m not particularly fond of sweets.”

Cérea looked at him like he’d said he wanted to become a spoon merchant. “You’re not particularly fond of sweets???”

“No.”

“What- - How is that- - Who’s not- -“ Cérea mumbled before gathering herself. “Fine, you’re not motivated by candy. But do you not wish to see another realm in a whole different plane of existence? Wouldn’t you like to see the inhabitants and their reactions to visitors? It’s just like Orr, only cornier, and there’s candy.”

“Well, since you called it another ‘plane of existence’,” he replied, though she could see that he was laughing at her. When she grumbled something about not liking being mocked, he gave her a quick hug and pulled her towards the door to the Mad King’s realm.

\--

“I’m going to have nightmares about those candy monsters,” Trahearne said when they returned to Lion’s Arch. “They did not endear candy to my heart one bit.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Cérea replied. “And you did get to visit the mists.”

“It became obvious why Thorn goes by ‘Mad King’,” he said and shivered. “I found his troops most interesting, though. What is the force that animates a plastic spider to move and attack other creatures like it was alive? It wasn’t life, per se, nor dragon’s power. I wonder if anyone has studied it.”

Cérea smiled. She was glad that he’d found something to peak his curiosity. “You should ask Magister Tassi. She seems to be the authority when it comes to the Mad King.”

“I’ll do that.”

A carrier pigeon flew to Trahearne. He unhooked the message and opened it. His countenance clouded as he read what it said.

“What is it?”

“The fortress is ready and the troops have arrived. It’s time to go to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The water bubble thing is an event in Metrica Province. Snow leopards reside in Wayfarer Foothills. I have had too much fun while gliding as a snow leopard :) The asura gate research is a heart in Brisban Wildlands.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback :)


	13. Scholars Have Their Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm lazy.

Cérea winced when she saw the collection of logs and boards that could not be called a fortress even by the most optimistic of her siblings.

“Please, tell me that this is not our grand headquarter for the war against Zhaitan. If it is, I don’t see anyone taking us seriously.”

Trahearne huffed amusedly. “This, my friend, is Concordia. Our main headquarter is under construction. We have gathered here to talk strategy with the representatives from the orders.”

When they entered the construct several people saluted them. Trahearne stepped forth to meet and greet. Cérea was happy to hang back and let him handle the socializing. She tried not to look around too much in order not to become depressed by the obvious insufficiencies of the base. She made an effort to smile at the people she knew. After Trahearne was done talking with them he nudged his head to call her to him.

“What is it?”

“I feel like the orders have doubts about my ability to lead,” Trahearne said.

“They would doubt any outsider,” replied she. “They won’t take your or my word for it, but you will show them in time that you are worthy of the trust that has been placed upon you.”

“Even so, your support could make the difference.”

“I highly doubt that, but I’m willing to try if that’s what you want.”

“I’d like you to join the discussion: you have in important role to play in the Pact.”

“Sure. Knock them dead.”

He smiled weakly. “Taking charge of an army – or even a group of strong-minded individuals – is new to me. I hope I sound more confident than I feel.”

“Relax. You’ll be brilliant.”

Trahearne nodded in acknowledgment and called the order representatives to gather around. He laid out the plan of launching the campaign against Zhaitan from the fortress in Terzetto Bay, called Fort Trinity. Everyone seemed to think that it was a good idea and the meeting dispersed, leaving the two sylvari by themselves.

“I have the orders’ pledge, but I don’t believe I have their confidence,” Trahearne said. “Please, talk to Doern, Efut, and Wynnet. Help me define their concerns about the Pact so I can assuage them.”

“Because I’m the one with the words?” Cérea asked with a raised eyebrow. “Known for my people skills now, am I? Can I just cast fear on them and make my minions stare at them until they spill the beans?”

Trahearne smiled at her. “You are better at dealing with people than you give yourself credit. Please, Cérea.”

“Fine, I’ll give it a go.”

“Thank you.”

Cérea loitered to Wynnet and nodded at the norn.

“So…” she began, “how do you feel about what we’re stepping into?”

“A fortress, and right on Orr’s doorstep as it were,” Wynnet pondered. “A bold move. I just hope it’s an effective one.”

“Do you have any serious concerns?”

“Trahearne has the knowledge we need, but will these soldiers and spies listen to him? It’ll take charisma and a forceful personality to keep this Pact together.”

“I appreciate your candor.”

Cérea left Wynnet and addressed Doern and Efut similarly. Doern had concerns about the strength of the alliance while Efut was doubtful of Trahearne’s capability to lead when under fire. She rejoined Trahearne and reported her findings.

“Doern lacked confidence in the Pact and the others need convincing concerning your abilities as a general,” she admitted. There was no point lying about it.

Trahearne sighed. “Just as I thought. I don’t blame them for being wary of an untested general. In time, Zhaitan will give me the chance to prove myself. I simply hope that they don’t lose faith in me before then.”

“They’ll see, don’t you worry,” she replied. “What now?”

It was time for more preparations. They addressed the smiths Trahearne had invited there. They were just finishing their discussion when a messenger rushed at the scene.

“The risen… undead… scores of them. The team… the research team is trapped. Help them!”

“What research team? Where?” Cérea asked.

“South – in Rankor Ruins. Undead overwhelmed the dig site… so many. They sent me to get help.”

“Let’s go, Commander,” said Trahearne.

When they approached the ruins they could feel the presence of the Orrians. They readied their weapons and Cérea summoned her minions. Closer to the ruin they met Agen Zrii and Crusader Afanen who pledged their assistance. Trahearne laid out the strategy and they went to work. The first camp contained bodies, but no survivors.

“I know this looks bad, but don’t lose heart. This camp isn’t big enough for all the missing researchers – there has to be another. We must press on,” Trahearne encouraged them.

They were luckier in the second camp from where someone called for them. Unluckily the undead heard them, too. Waves and waves of undead rushed at living people. There were different kinds of undead – some had been asura, others human, hylek, or krait. No sylvari, though. Cérea wondered why that was. She pushed the issue aside for later consideration.

The research team was glad to be alive but they were also concerned for their colleagues who were still in the ruin because of their recent discovery. Trahearne promised that they would find the researchers to find out if they’d survived. They ventured into the ruin and followed Agent Zrii who had been snooping around. They were in the nick of time to rescue the Priory team from the undead.

Without further ado they all headed out only to find the entrance blocked by bones.

“Where did that come from?” Trahearne asked aloud. “This was supposed to be our way out.”

“The Orrians funneled us here,” Agent Zrii replied. “They’ve shown disturbingly advanced tactics since we arrived.”

“If the Priory team found the artifact I suspect they found, it all makes sense.”

“They were looking for a dwarven tome. Why would Zhaitan care so much about an ancient book of lore?” the Krewe leader asked.

“I believe it contains information about the last time the dragons rose,” Trahearne said. “Its very existence proves they can be beaten back. Our enemy wants to keep that information from us. Commander, I need your aid.”

Cérea went to him and looked at him expectantly.

“We’re trapped. I can summon us the reinforcements we need to fight our way out but I need you to watch my back while I cast.”

She nodded and turned her attention towards the surrounding cave. She heard some grunting while Trahearne summoned whatever it was that he was summoning. She saw their allies looking at what was happening behind her back. Their expressions of surprise and wonder made her turn around. Her mouth fell open.

“By the Pale Tree, how did you do that?”

She was staring at six minions. Big ones. Three looked like Shadow Fiends, three like Flesh Golems. She could only summon one of each at a time. How was this even possible? Why didn’t Trahearne do this more often? They certainly could have used those on Claw Island…

Their allies seemed as taken by his magic than she was. They made approving comments and the spirit of the party was generally lifted.

“Let’s get out of here,” Trahearne said with a confident smile.

The party began to fight their way out. Trahearne and Cérea brought the rear.

“So, how exactly…” she asked again.

“We can discuss it later,” he replied. “My summoned agents are powerful, but taxing to control. The sooner we’re clear of this killing ground, the better.”

She knew that he was right. It was better to focus on the task at hand, but she was determined to find out what sort of power he wielded and how he had come to have it. If he could teach her… That would improve their chances against Zhaitan, at least a little.

The entrance of the cave did not bring an end to their problems. As soon as they reached the light of day, they were faced with several gigantic abominations and a powerful undead caster.

“Ha!” the creature gloated and locked its glowing eyes at Trahearne. “Welcome sylvari. Lured you here, trapped you here. Now you die here. The elements bow before me and I bow before Zhaitan. He wills your death. He shall have it.”

“I was born to undo your master’s work,” Trahearne replied. “If I must kill you to achieve that, so be it.”

Trahearne’s minions had disappeared in the cave. They had to survive on their own. It became of matter of prioritizing. Trahearne attacked the caster straight away, but the others had to focus their efforts on the abominations because they were so troublesome. Nothing could stop them when they were rushing at you. If you judged the distance wrong or were a little late in dodging, you found yourself being pressed to the ground with no air in your lungs.

One of the abominations was still alive when Cérea noticed that Trahearne was having trouble with the caster. She sent her minions at the creature and went to help Trahearne up.

“Enough! You will die, then rise, and I will see you destroy your own allies!” the caster yelled at Trahearne.

Fear and rage filled Cérea at those words. They were too close to her recurring dream. She would not let that happen if it was the last thing she did. She went at the creature with vengeance.

“Say that again to my face and see how that works out for you!”

For the tiniest moment the creature seemed confused. She ran at it, blew her horn in its face, and hit it over the head with her scepter over and over again. It teleported away from her, leaving behind an area of electricity. She dodged out of it and followed, muttering on about her hate for rotten elementalists who ran away when going got good. She could hear Trahearne chuckling at her, or maybe she imagined it. She didn’t care at this point. She only wanted the thing dead.

“I am of the dragon. I command the elements. I will not fall!”

“I bet papa won’t be pleased when we prove you wrong,” she replied without pausing in the onslaught. When the creature was at its end, she yelled, “Trahearne, now!” and dazed it.

Trahearne leapt at the caster and thrust Caladbolg through it. It disappeared with a cry.

“Well done, Marshal Trahaerne,” one of the scholars said. “That Orrian ugly looked nigh unstoppable, but you did it.”

“The Pact did it,” Trahearne replied. “Our combined efforts made this happen. Just as we’ll defeat Zhaitan together. Hopefully, our chances of doing just that have improved with the information contained inside the dwarven tome.”

“We can help you there,” an asura said. “I’m fluent in ancient dwarf. Get us out of here and I’ll work on that tome until it’s completely translated.”

“Done. Zrii, please escort the research teams back to Concordia,” Trahearne said. “Commander, a word?”

The two sylvari stood side by side and watched the others leave for Concordia. When they were out of earshot, Trahearne took Cérea in his arms and hugged her tightly.

“Victory. The first of many, with allies like you beside me,” he said. “This is the first step in a long, perilous journey. From here on, things will get more difficult.”

“At least now some of the doubts should be quieted,” she replied. “People saw what you did and were mightily impressed. They also saw the hate-boner that undead had for you and that you took it down. I have a feeling that word about your prowess is going to get round.”

“Hate-boner?”

“Please, don’t make me explain that one. You should spend more time with humans, it would open your worldview in unforeseen ways.”

“I believe you,” he replied and nuzzled against the top of her head. “Thank you for your help with this mission. You were essential to our success. I would have been defeated without you.”

“I don’t know about that. You had your minions,” she said and looked up at him, “which reminds me – how did you summon so many powerful ones at the same time?”

“You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?” he said, teasingly.

“Yes, I would, and I will find - -”

That was when he bent down to kiss her. His lips were gentle but determined. He pulled her even closer, his hands making their presence known on her back. Only two thin layers of clothing separated their bodies from each other, and those clothes were not much since they both wore light armor. When they took a breather, she thought that he looked a tad too smug.

“Don’t you think that you can kiss me into dropping this,” she said. “That was a good kiss, but you’ll have to do much better than that if you intend to make me forget about your little friends.”

“Well, I am a scholar. I have dedicated my life to learning and improving myself. I accept your challenge.”

“That’s not really what I- -”

He kissed her again, thoroughly. She could feel herself melting into his body. His touch lit a fire inside of her. He was studying her preferences and doing what she liked. He reacted to her every sound and movement, sometimes it seemed like he could anticipate them. She felt her thoughts go hazy. Wasn’t there something she’d meant to ask him? Probably not. She pushed all else aside and enjoyed the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the description of the battle isn't accurate. I couldn't remember the number of the minions so I figured I'd just wing it. That's not particularly important anyway. Also, I find the idea of Cérea hitting the undead over the head with her scepter kind of funny. Especially when you know that the scepter skin is one with spiderwebs and flies in it.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback! And scholars rule! XD


	14. Tough Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make a wee bit of fun at Logan's expense. Just a wee bit.

”Commander, over here!”

Cérea went to meet the norn who was waving at her. She vaguely remembered her from Claw Island.

“Good to see you again, commander. I’ve been looking forward to working with you again.”

“Good to see you, too, crusader,” Cérea replied. “Marshal Trahearne mentioned something about captives?”

The norn nodded. “The problem in this region is krait. We’re losing too many potential recruits to their slave pens. Our mission is to rescue as many slaves as possible, though a sylvari prisoner named Hywel is top priority. He’s a warden of exceptional skill.”

“Alright. Let’s get started, crusader.”

“Right you are, commander. By the way, I’d be honored if you’d call me ‘Apatia’.”

She looked at the woman to see if she was serious. She appeared to be. Hers had to be the most depressing name ever. “As you wish.”

As a rule Cérea wasn’t particularly fond of krait, and the feeling was mutual. Every krait that beheld them attacked without asking questions. They liked to poison and bleed their opponents as well as push them around. It didn’t make any difference in the end, but getting there was annoying. Cérea and Apatia worked from the bottom to the top of the tower, killing every krait and freeing every prisoner they could find. The planks of the tower were slimy, slippery, and gross.

“I don’t like this place,” Cérea commented while trying to balance on a half-rotten beam and not look down at the almost black water under her.

“I know what you mean,” Apatia replied. “Slavers make me sick. I swear, I’m going to tan an entire suit of krait-skin armor.”

“Wouldn’t that be… sort of sticky?”

“Not if treated properly.”

“You’ve actually put some thought into this, haven’t you?”

“These aren’t the first krait I’ve ever met, commander.”

They found Warden Hywel at the very top of the tower. They had to kill a nasty boss type krait to get to him. Cérea was more than happy to kick its dead carcass off the tower when they were done.

“Thank the Mother Tree – and thank you,” the warden said. “Who am I to thank for my release?”

“We’re with the Pact, warden,” Cérea replied.

“Are there any other prisoners we should find?” Apatia asked.

“I don’t think so,” the sylvari replied. “There was a largos, but she escaped on her own. Strange and terrifying creature, that one. I understood that she got herself captured to get to the slavemaster because he was ‘worthy prey’. Then she let herself out and went after him.”

Cérea shrugged. “To each his own. Or hers.”

“Another thing: the krait kept talking about a magical orb they use to keep Zhaitan’s corruption out. I never saw a single undead creature here. I think their orb could be real.”

Apatia and Cérea agreed that the orb was worth looking into after they got the former slaves to safety.

\--

“Impressive. I will present this trophy to the great Houses in your name. You have earned the right of introduction: I am Sayeh al’ Rajihd.”

Cérea looked at the floating, winged woman in front of her. The largos looked almost like a human, though there were subtle differences, like nuances. And the wings, of course. The largos seemed willing to help her and Apatia after they’d killed the sea monster whose head she’d asked for.

“I’m the Commander of the Pact and this is Crusader Apatia. We would like to ask about the orb the krait had.”

“The orb you seek is a thing of legend, known only to deep dwellers. Its origins are lost, but it is extremely powerful. It may pose its own dangers, but it does counter the undead dragon’s influence. Wherever the orb is, those who die near it do not rise again.”

“What sort of dangers are we talking about here?” Cérea asked. “Corruption, mental infirmity, crow’s feet, eternal youth?”

The largos made a dismissive sound, as if it did not matter. “The krait are keeping the orb in constant transit between their largest strongholds to maximize its effect. I suggest a plan: I was brought close to the slavemaster when I allowed myself to be captured. If you do the same, you may reach the orb.”

“I’d rather snatch it in transit, while it’s vulnerable,” Apatia suggested. “The Pact desperately needs to rein in Zhaitan’s power.”

“We’ll confer about that. Thank you for your help, Sayeh al’ Rajihd,” Cérea said.

“May your steps be relentless,” the largos replied and vanished from the water.

“That’s a useful trick,” Cérea said.

“What are we going to do, commander?” Apatia inquired.

“I don’t fancy being caught be the krait,” Cérea replied. “But if we intend to lay a trap, we should get some reinforcements. This orb sounds too important to lose because of insufficient numbers.”

“With all due respect, commander, I think we can manage,” Apatia said. “We can handle a few measly krait, like the rescue mission proved. And the matter is time sensitive – we have to get to the orb while they are transporting it. I can get my hands on some explosives that should tip the scales our way for sure.”

Cérea considered it. She had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but if what Sayeh had said about the orb was true… It was worth the risk. What was the worst that could happen?

\--

Cérea sighed, looked at the blue-green orb in her lap, and spurred her raptor to run faster. She was feeling rotten for having trusted Apatia’s assessment of her own skill, which was stupid. A grown woman should know what she was capable of and what she could not do. Lack of self-insight had landed Apatia as a krait slave. There had been no point in going after her before getting the orb to Fort Trinity. After that… It would probably be too late. Apatia would be another casualty of the war that was just beginning.

Cérea let her raptor rush past the Pact soldiers that waved at her. She didn’t dismount until she was inside and saw Trahearne. She jogged at him awkwardly with the orb.

“Good to see you, Cérea,” Trahearne said at the sight of her. His smile made her feel a little better.

“You too, Trahearne. I come bearing gifts,” she replied with an answering smile. “Where do you want this?”

“We have prepared a place for it. Let me show you,” he said and led her towards a platform. She plopped the orb there and stretched her cramping hands. The orb wasn’t heavy, but she had logged it around for a considerable time.

“Thank you for this,” he said. “I’m looking forward to having a moment to study it.”

“Take care while doing that. The largos who told us about it implied something about side effects it might have.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” he replied and looked at her. “It has been a while since we saw each other. How are you?”

She frowned. “The krait have Apatia.”

He touched her arm in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Not much that can be done about it now,” she replied. “How are things here?”

Trahearne explained about the difficulties they’d had with the malfunctioning asura gates, the lost scouts, the glitches in communication, and the like occurrences. He was worried for the increase in undead activity and feared for an attack.

“And you? How are you doing amongst all this?” Cérea asked.

Trahearne smiled weakly. She could tell that he was tired. “There is so much to do. So many people looking to me for answers, so many problems needing solutions… I do the best I can, though I fear it might not be enough.”

“Have you slept?”

“I do not require much sleep to function.”

“That’s not a ‘yes’, Trahearne.”

“The Pact is not about me.”

“Exactly. So you can sleep in order not to fall on your face on the battle plans when the undead do attack. Someone else can stay up in turn. It doesn’t always have to be you.”

“But…”

“Don’t fight it, marshal. Tonight I will make sure that you sleep, even if I have to employ less than honorable means to achieve it,” she stated. “Now, off you go to do some marshaling while I check on those defenses you were so worried about.”

A chill ran down Cérea’s back the moment she got to the lumber camp and she knew right away that Trahearne had been right to be concerned.

“Ready your weapons, the undead are attacking!” she yelled and the battle started.

\--

Cérea leaned her head on the orb’s pedestal and took deep breaths. Trahearne stood next to her, leaning his hands on his knees and looking like he could fall over any second.

“That was one for the history books,” she said when her breathing had evened out a bit. “Giants, undead, mesmers, double agents, dragons… And a happy ending. Sort of.”

“Yes, you are quite right,” he replied. “I’m glad we have the dragon’s attention. I want Zhaitan to know the names and faces of those who will defeat it.”

“Really? Because I would be happy to have it die without fuss. I’d rather not pin a huge target on my back, but that’s just me.”

“You are pragmatic, I am emotional.”

“You are entitled to your emotions. Just like sleep.”

He huffed. “I thought you might have forgotten about that during the battle.”

“No such luck,” she said and got up. She grimaced when her sore members protested. “That is going to hurt tomorrow. And probably turn a funny color, too.”

“Do you need healing?”

“No, thanks, I’m good. Or medium. Poor to medium, but whatever,” she said and took her backpack off to be able to rummage through its contents. She pulled out a couple of meals and handed the other to Trahearne. “Here. You should eat something. If you haven’t been sleeping, I bet you haven’t been eating enough either.”

“Thank you.” He gulped the food down so fast that she knew she’d been correct. She took out some more food and offered it to him without comment. He ate it too.

“Why don’t you show me to your quarters?” she asked. “I need to make sure that you sleep.”

Trahearne was clearly too tired to resist. He led the way to a modest room that had a writing desk with a chair and a bed and not much else. She went ahead to lift the covers and looked expectantly at him. He crawled obediently into the bed and she tucked him in.

“This is strange,” he protested. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“No, I am going to make you get the sleep you need,” she replied sternly. “I would love to do more than that with you, but it will just have to wait until you are better rested. Having a guy fall asleep on top of me when I’m burning with lust and ready to go is not an experience I wish to have.”

He chuckled. “That is how you motivate someone to sleep. Just out of curiosity – what were those measures you threatened me with earlier?”

She moved the desk chair next to the bed and sat down. Then she took off her backpack, dropped it at her feet, and went through the stuff to find the item she had carried around for situations such as this. She grinned when her hand hit the right shape and she pulled it out with a triumphant smile.

“An instruction manual?”

“Even better – an asuran instruction manual on golem cleaning, maintenance, and assorted procedures.”

“You are going to hit me over the head with it?” Trahearne asked, looking apprehensive.

“If reading it doesn’t work.”

“How would reading it work?”

“Spoken like someone who’s never read an asuran instruction manual,” she said. “Those nerds have the skill to make everything written sound like a punishment. I guess that’s how scientists roll. I did look into a booklet by the name of ‘The mighty deeds of Captain Logan Thackeray’, but it was such an outrageous collection of clearly fabricated stories that it kept making me laugh instead of putting me to sleep. Someone actually made a realistic version of it, just for kicks, but that only included one sentence besides the title.”

“What was it?” Trahearne asked, mystified.

“’There are none’,” she quoted.

“That’s a tad harsh,” he replied, but laughed anyway.

She grinned. “It brightened my day. But now is time for you to fall asleep, marshal.”

“What if I would prefer to stay awake with you?”

“Tough luck,” she replied and opened the first page of the manual. “Chapter One: The proper procedure when cleaning the functionary nobs on your MKIV-CRT05 Golem. First, make sure to turn off the power of your MKIV-CRT05 Golem by applying pressure on the SD/PU button found in the bottom left…”

Trahearne groaned and closed his eyes. If he didn’t already wish to be unconscious, he would when Cérea got to the part about cleaning the nobs with the appropriate amount of pressure and the amount of said pressure and the possible color of said nobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apatia = Apathy (in Finnish). Sort of a self-fulfilling prophesy that one.
> 
> I think it weird that such an important task as getting that orb is left to merely two people.
> 
> You may have gathered that I'm not a fan of Logan's. The reasons are numerous, but mostly because a) he's useless and tends to die on me whenever I have to haul him around, and b) he's so hopelessly in love with his boss it's pathetic. It pains me that we lose many great characters through the story, but Logan of all people lives on. I'll probably be venting about this again...
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback! I'm not sure if I'll have the time to write around the holidays because I have to work, but time will tell.
> 
> \--  
> Update: I actually wrote The Mighty Deeds of Captain Logan Thackeray. At least one chapter of it. If that tickles your fancy, feel free to check it out.


	15. Wintersday Cheer for One And All

Trahearne was walking through the landscape he’d grown familiar with over the years. The cleansed land of Orr was lush with new life: plants were flourishing, birds were singing, and the formerly monochrome scenery was rich with colors. Everything seemed to be as it should be, but he felt that something was amiss.

The Avatar of the Tree appeared to him. “Rejoice, my child, for the land of Orr is dead no more.”

“I would, Mother, but I am unable to rid myself of the feeling that something is missing,” replied he. “I do not understand. This is my purpose. I have fulfilled my mission. I should be nothing but happy. Why am I anxious for something that is not here?”

“There is more to life than the Dream, my child,” said she. “As there is more to your dream than this.”

Trahearne was astonished. “Whatever do you mean? This is all I have ever dreamed of. This is all I remember.”

The Pale Tree smiled at him kindly. “You are an exceptional scholar because of your determination, fine mind, and strong focus. These qualities, while necessary in the world of study, make you liable to obliviousness concerning other things.”

Trahearne smiled. That was very kindly put. “You mean to say that I am clueless when it comes to real life? You may be right, but what has that to do with my dream?”

“You are far from clueless,” the Tree consoled him. “Even less so now that you have discerned that a piece of your happiness is missing.”

“What do I do, Mother? How do I find out what isn’t here? How do I replace or return something I didn’t know was supposed to be present?” Trahearne asked. He was at a loss. Cleansing Orr seemed impossible, but this new piece of knowledge made it appear even more difficult.

“Calm down, my eldest,” the Tree said. “Often the most difficult questions have the simplest answers.”

“I do not understand, Mother.”

“Real life and the Dream are connected, my child.”

“I know. What does it mean?”

The Avatar of the Tree shook her head, as if amused by his cluelessness, which she’d just denied a moment earlier. “Look for the difference: What is it that makes you happy in real life that you do not find in your dream?”

\--

Trahearne woke up in his room at Fort Trinity. The Tree’s question was fresh in his mind, but the answer was not. He filed it away for further thought when he had the time. He performed his morning routine and went to look for Cérea.

He spotted her from afar. She was sparring with some members of the Vigil. What drew his notice was that instead of her usual weapons she was swinging a greatsword that was bigger than her. It was obvious that it wasn’t her first time handling the weapon – she was taking on multiple attackers at the same time and managing to hold her own. It would have been more accurate to say that she was the aggressor. Had it been a real fight, Trahearne was certain that she would have been victorious. Watching her grace with the weapon, the arch of her body when she swung the sword, and the agility of her elegant limbs made him think what it would be like to bed her. She was such a lively spirit and considerate soul who always had a glint of humor in her eye. He was truly touched by the way she took care of him while he was trying to take care of everyone else. She brought warmth into his life; warmth he hadn’t known he’d missed until she’d come along. Warmth that hadn’t been in his dream…

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Cérea’s greeting stopped Trahearne’s train of thought. She had attached the huge sword on her back and was strolling towards him. “Are you sure you’re awake? You look like you’re still dreaming.”

“Yes, I have awakened,” he replied. “I see that you have updated your weaponry.”

“Oh, this?” she asked and pulled the sword from her back to show it. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I just got it. It was a pain to gather the stuff for it, but I’ve always wanted a big-ass greatsword and now I finally have one!” She swung the weapon with a broad smile on her face, clearly in love with her new implement of death. “And it’s ascended! It goes well with the Reaper stuff I’ve been working on.”

Trahearne was impressed. “You have decided to switch to Reaper?”

She nodded. “I’m definitely going to miss my minions, but this sword makes up for it. Besides, now I’m very rarely fighting alone because of the Pact, so I won’t need the minions, as cute as they were.”

“You think your minions are cute?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that,” she replied with a grin that disappeared in the next moment. “I have to go get Apatia. I owe her that much.”

Trahearne nodded. “We all owe her that. The orb is precious to the war against Zhaitan.”

“True. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Hold on, Cérea. You don’t have to go alone,” Trahearne said. He didn’t like the idea of sending her by herself to take down a krait colony. Krait could be nasty and he didn’t want to lose her.

“I’m not going alone. I have my big-ass greatsword.”

“Nonetheless. We are coming with you,” he stated. “I’ll let the orders know.”

\--

“As I feared: the water’s toxic,” Trahearne said. “Quickly, get up onto those gangplanks!”

Cérea looked at their fearless leader with a smile at the corner of her mouth. He was really cute, marching on the gangplanks with Caladbolg, so determined and righteous. That’s probably what he would look like if she ever got into trouble and he had to rescue her. The idea was comforting but it should never happen. He needed her to look out for him, not the other way around. Besides, Cérea was definitely not a damsel in distress sort of a person. She’d grow bored and kick up a shit storm if she was ever caught and imprisoned.

The freshly undead krait kept attacking the small party. They jumped out of the polluted water to do their nasty tricks. Not that it did them any good beyond slowing the party down a bit.

“Be careful,” Trahearne warned them as they climbed the tower. “The higher we go, the greater the danger. If the fall doesn’t harm you, the tainted water will.”

“I’m trying hard not to think about that,” Cérea said. Her slippery shoes weren’t doing her any favors. She decided that if she survived this, she’d go back to wearing sylvari style shoes. The soles of her feet were less likely to get her killed in a situation like this.

“There’s the slavemaster,” Trahearne called out. “Subdue her!”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill her?” Cérea asked and went at the slimy creature who was gloating at her.

“Come to join your friend?” asked the krait. “She loves our hospitality. Apatia, wasn’t it? She gave us her name and rank, between all the screaming. Orr will claim you. Zhaitan will consume you all!”

“Shut up, you rotten lizard!” Cérea yelled and swung her sword. It made a satisfying sound when it hit the slavemaster. She cast vulnerability on the krait, froze her, and went into shroud. She would silence this disgusting piece of slime and avenge Apatia.

As the slavemaster lied down dying, she groaned, “Victory is yours… but Apatia is ours.”

Cérea kicked the lizard’s head with all her might which made crack. She couldn’t have done that with her bare feet, so wearing shoes did have some benefits.

“I see Apatia,” Crusader Afanen informed the others. “She’s in that cage across the way.”

“We’ll have to climb down to reach her,” said Agent Zrii. “There should be a beam connecting to her cage.”

They got to the cage, but what was in it was no longer Apatia.

“By the Pale Tree… Zhaitan’s corruption has claimed Apatia as well as the krait,” Trahearne said.

“Is she… aware? Is Apatia still there, suffering, or is she just a mindless husk?” Afanen asked. “Either way, this is a cruel end for a noble hunter.”

“For anyone,” Cérea stated. “At least we can end her suffering.”

“And when that is done, we travel to Hoelbrak to tell her legend to the skaalds so she’ll be remembered forever,” Trahearne said. “That is the norn way. Commander, Apatia admired you greatly. You should be the one to put her to rest.”

Cérea sighed. She didn’t feel comfortable with this, but it was true that this was her responsibility. She opened the cage and swung her sword. Apatia was no more.

\--

Trahearne looked at the disheartened Cérea as they were leaving the Great Lodge after singing Apatia’s legend. The usually alert sylvari seemed as if she could walk into a wall and not notice. Her gloominess had an edge that made him worry for her.

“Don’t,” she said and stopped.

“Pardon?” he asked, stopping to stand beside her.

“I can feel you getting worried about me. Please don’t. You have too much on your mind already. I can take care of myself,” she said. “I’m rational, remember? I’ll get myself sorted out in no time.”

“But I wish to help you,” said he. “It would make me feel better to make you feel better. Please?”

She chuckled, probably despite herself, and squeezed his hand. “Thorns, you’re just too cute for your own good, Firstborn.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Fine. What did you have in mind?”

\--

Cérea looked in wonder at the snowy scenery in front of her. “What’s happened to Divinity’s Reach?”

“It’s Wintersday,” a familiar voice commented. “A human tradition.”

Cérea turned around. “Caithe? Great to see you! What are you doing here?”

Caithe gave her friend a hug and nudged her head towards Trahearne. “He sent me a message saying that you need cheering up.”

“Not unlike yourself,” Trahearne replied without remorse, paying no heed to Cérea’s disapproving glance for disturbing Caithe with her troubles. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to get drunk,” Caithe said.

“Things not going like you wished with Destiny’s Edge?” Cérea asked sympathetically.

“They are a bunch of idiots.”

“That you love.”

“Which makes me an idiot, too. Hence the drinking,” Caithe said dryly. “I suppose those presents have alcohol in them. Let’s get some.”

“Works for me,” Cérea agreed.

“Hold on,” Trahearne said.

“You’re not going to let us get drunk?” Cérea asked in disbelief.

“He’s gotten bossier since becoming the boss,” Caithe pointed out.

“I have no problem with you two enjoying a holiday drink or two,” he replied. “I would only prefer you did it after we tried some of the other activities available. They are much more difficult to perform while intoxicated.”

“I like a challenge,” Caithe said and drank down a mug of eggnog she’d acquired in the blink of an eye.

\--

“He may have been right, you know,” Caithe commented. “I can’t see straight.”

“Maybe we should switch roles until you sober up?” Cérea suggested. “A drunk scout isn’t much use to the team.”

“That is not happening. I’m a thief; I don’t do support,” Caithe replied. “If you want to switch roles, you can swap with Trahearne.”

“I am not giving her a gun again,” Trahearne said and pulled his weapon hastily away to protect it from Cérea.

Caithe looked between the two of them. “There’s a story here I’d enjoy hearing, but it will have to wait. The game is about to begin.”

It soon became evident that the name ‘Snowball Mayhem’ was apt. Two teams of players rushed at the presents and fought over them to the bitter end. Teams were scored for carrying gifts to their gift piles and bringing their opponents to the ground. The first team to score 500 points won. At first it all seemed like mayhem, but there were tactics a team could use – if the team was organized, which theirs wasn’t.

“Why is no one waiting for the next present when they know that it’s going to be there any moment?” Cérea asked, frustrated, while she was returning with Caithe from depositing the previous present in their gift pile.

“Maybe they’re as drunk as I am?” Caithe suggested. “Or they’re having too much fun just slinging snowballs at each other.”

Cérea looked at the cheerful players. “You might be right. I know that we’re going to lose, but this is fun all the same,” said she, turned into a giant snowball, and rolled over an opposing player who was trying to stop them from getting to the gift carrier.

Caithe stealthed them and they were able to surprise the enemy gift carrier. No one was watching his back, so he was easily defeated at his own doorstep. They took the gift and ran towards their own base, only to run into an unpleasant sight.

“Damn, that’s a jumping puzzle,” Cérea said.

“So? Come on.”

“I don’t do jumping puzzles. I’m serious, Caithe, I’d fall and we’d lose the gift. You go, I’ll cover your back from here. I’ll bunker down and keep them from getting to you.”

Caithe shrugged, stealthed herself, and ran the gift to their gift pile. Cérea put up a wall and kept the enemies occupied long enough for them to score. They actually ended up winning the game.

“Again?” Caithe asked and the two others agreed.

“Were you having fun in the field?” Cérea asked Trahearne before the new game began.

“Definitely. I have found my weapon,” he replied, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“And you think I go power-mad when I’m holding a gun?”

\--

“Muahhahhahhaaaaaaa!!!” Cérea laughed while she popped the rampaging toys out of existence.

The other two sylvari just stared at her. Trahearne sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to give her a gun.”

“I see what you mean,” Caithe replied. “Cérea, you know that you don’t need that gun if we build enough turrets and walls?”

“What’s the fun in that? I don’t need turrets and walls when I have this gun!”

The other two sighed and continued building while the youngest kept laughing and shooting toys. She was truly disappointed when the toys ran out.

“What? No more?”

“Don’t you think you got enough?” Caithe asked. “Just out of curiosity – how many did you get?”

“143, I think. Why?”

\--

“It’s time to do what I suggested in the first place,” Caithe said. “Let’s get drunk!”

“We have gathered quite a number of holiday themed drinks,” Cérea pointed out and looked questioningly at Trahearne.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But we cannot be too drunk, we have responsibilities.”

“Sure, old man,” Caithe said and drank down three mugs of cider one after the other. “I feel merry and cheerful right about now,” she mumbled with a gooey smile.

Trahearne turned to Cérea. “How about you?” he inquired. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “Thank you for this.”

“Anytime,” he said with a warm smile. “Cheers!”

They clicked their mugs together. “Cheers!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sword Cérea has is Dark Harvest. It was a pain to get, but it looks nice, though a bit too big for my taste. I have all the HoT specialization weapons but none of the PoF ones yet because I have been working on my legendary. That seems like a never ending task.
> 
> I'm passionate about Snowball Mayhem. I absolutely love it. Have spent hours playing it. It's like a more fun version of PvP which I also like. Sure, the teams are often ridiculously uneven and many people have no idea what they're supposed to be doing, but it's still fun.
> 
> I played a lot of Toypocalypse last year, not so much this year because I've gotten so into Snowball Mayhem. I don't like it when people build so much defenses that it cuts into my kill count. 143 is an actual score I've gotten this year. If I got less than 100, I'd be disappointed.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and feedback! Happy holidays and merry Wintersday!


	16. Happiness Interrupted by War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I'm lazy. And I've been getting into streaming which has been cutting my writing time.
> 
> Reader, ahoy! This chapter has NSFW content.

”I’m afraid we have to go,” Trahearne said. “The war awaits.”

“You’re right. Sadly the undead won’t kill themselves,” Cérea said with a sigh. “You go ahead, I want to say goodbye to Caithe.”

Trahearne nodded and said his goodbyes to Caithe. The women stayed behind.

“So, how are things?” Caithe asked.

Cérea shrugged. “Busy, it would appear. Trahearne is in charge which he takes to mean that he has to do everything. He doesn’t eat or sleep properly if I’m not there to kick his ass.”

Caithe smiled. “He was always like that – responsible to a fault. He’s lucky to be loved by you.”

Cérea stared at her feet. “’Love’ is a big word, Caithe. I just want to make sure that he survives.”

“What would you call it then?”

“I’m not a philosopher,” Cérea replied. Had she been one, she would probably have had a word for the way she felt about Trahearne. How she appreciated his mind, compassion, and skills, how she worried for his safety and wellbeing, how she felt better about everything whenever she saw him smile… Thinking about all of it brought a gooey smile on her face that made Caithe laugh.

“That, right there,” her friend said and pointed at her expression, “is what the rest of the world calls love. You don’t have to be a philosopher to say the word. It won’t kill you to admit it, even if it’s only to yourself.”

Cérea merely glared at her. Tyria was not a place that was kind to lovers – just look what had happened to Caithe. She’d loved once and been unhappy for the rest of her life. It would be better not to dwell on such things. She should focus on defeating Zhaitan and protecting Trahearne from facing the fate she’d seen in her dreams.

“Anyway,” Caithe said and retrieved something from her backpack, “since you’re worried about Trahearne not getting enough sleep, this might help.” She handed Cérea a small bottle of liquid she wasn’t familiar with. “A few drops should guarantee a decent night’s sleep.”

“Thank you. That will come in handy,” Cérea said and took the bottle. “I have to go now. It was nice seeing you again.”

“You, too. Take care of yourself, my friend.”

“Likewise.”

\--

When Cérea arrived in Fort Trinity, Trahearne was giving another speech. She didn’t know why – maybe there were new recruits or something. She was merely happy that it wasn’t her job. She’d get tired of all the talking in no time at all and just glare at the new people menacingly while barking them to do their jobs unless they wanted to die. Trahearne seemed to have been made of patience, bless his heart.

After the speech was done, Trahearne waved Cérea to him. She followed him to a corner of the room where Sayeh al’ Rajihd appeared out of nowhere. That really was a useful trick. They greeted each other and waited for what Trahearne had to say.

“Scouts have discovered a sixth temple in Orr – a lost shrine to a fallen god, hidden underwater in the Strait of Malediction,” he said. “Abaddon, the human god of secrets, was cast out of Arah by the other deities, and his name was erased from history. Very little remained. Zhaitan craves something inside that temple, so we must get there first. Sayeh, you know where the temple is, do you not?”

“Yes, you are correct. I will take the commander there. Thus my debt will be paid,” Sayeh said and turned to Cérea. “It will be dangerous. You will need all your skills to travel with me.”

“You wouldn’t believe some of the monsters I’ve come across,” she replied. “Yet, here I am.”

“So I see. I look forward to our journey. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Cérea followed her graceful guide through the risen-infested waters. The largos wasn’t a chatty person by nature which was fine by her. Orr wasn’t a place where you felt the sudden urge to have long heart-to-hearts about the meaning of existence. It was a place where you could die during small talk about weather if you weren’t careful. Cérea was curious about largos and their culture but there was a time and a place for cultural inquiry.

“We have arrived, commander,” Sayeh said when they were floating above an old ruin. “The risen have already bypassed the wards and breached the temple. We must exterminate them. But be warned. There are dangers here not of the dragon. Powers ancient and unseen still occupy these halls.”

“Sounds super. Let’s go say hi.”

\--

“Did you find any ‘powers ancient and unseen’?” Trahearne asked. Cérea was in his tiny office, slouching on his table with her head in her hands.

“Don’t I always?” she grumbled. “There were risen and ghosts and risen and mesmers and ghosts and risen and necromancers… Do you have any idea how annoying necromancers are as opponents? They just won’t die!”

Trahearne chuckled and caressed her hand. “I know.”

“So we had to kill all these ghosts to get into places around a multidimensional maze that was partly in water and partly above it. In the innermost chamber or whatever we saw an eye floating around, a walking mouth, and a risen general or something that was awfully pissed off because of our presence. He kept telling us to ‘submit to the dragon’ and stuff like that; sounded a lot like what you’d hear on certain shady allies in Divinity’s Reach. We got the general but the other two got away. The temple gave out and we had to escape before it collapsed on us. I’m sorry, but we didn’t get the artifact they were after.”

“Do not worry, we can still catch it. The eye you saw concerns me more – it always precedes an attack by Zhaitan’s horde, so it must become our new priority,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she muttered. “How do we find it?”

“You, my dear, don’t find anything but sleep right now.”

“No, no, I’m good to go. I’m not tired at all,” Cérea mumbled against the table. “Just get me some coffee or something.”

“It is getting late. You should prepare for bed and go to sleep. You can use my bed if you want. I’ll send the necessary messages and join you soon.”

“Mmm.”

Cérea performed her evening routine in a dream. Trahearne was right, she was tired. So tired that she was grateful that she didn’t need to go all the way back to her own sleeping quarters. It would be nice to feel Trahearne’s warm body next to hers when she slept. Not that she had much chance of doing that since she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

\--

Cérea opened her eyes to see Trahearne’s sleeping face right in front of hers. He looked peaceful when he slept. She caressed his cheek and lips gently with her hand, probably smiling like an idiot while doing it. In that tiny moment he was safe and well and sleeping in her arms. She squeezed closer to his body and found out that he was hard. Cérea’s smile turned mischievous when she noticed that particular detail. She kissed him awake. The sound he made when he woke up was delicious.

“Cérea?”

“I’m seconds away from grabbing your hard cock. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I am uncertain of whether I am awake or still dreaming, but I have no problem with you taking such an action,” he replied, his voice hoarse from sleep and desire. “In fact, that is what I have been dreaming about for some time.”

“Well then, I’d be more than happy to make your dreams come true,” she replied and grabbed hold of his erection.

Cérea admitted to herself some curiosity on how a sylvari cock would compare with a human’s. It appeared that they were pretty much the same. The shape was similar. Trahearne was a little harder than Ihan had been, but other than that and the color the differences were negligible. Even the reactions were the same. Trahearne moaned and bucked into her hand when she moved her hand on him. His hands found her breasts and he made her moan in return. He knew how to apply enough pressure that it would feel just right. They kissed each other while getting to know each other’s bodies better. It was like a slow-burning fire that was getting brighter with every touch, shiver, and sound.

Trahearne was taking his sweet time getting to her favorite spots, so she took his hand and guided it between her legs. He grinned and twirled his thumb around her clit, deliberately making her wait. She tried to move that he’d hit something critical, but he dodged and kissed her again leisurely. He wanted to make it last.

“Trahearne, please!” she said and moved her legs so that they were crossed over his back, enclosing him between them, pushing him into her. She could feel his erection at her entrance and was dying to get him inside of her. “Please!”

“Why in such a hurry, dearest?” he asked playfully. “I have been waiting for this, I want it to last.”

“I have been waiting for this, too. I want you so bad it hurts. Please, put me out of my misery. We can make it last by doing it several times.”

Then he thrust. She made an incoherent sound when he was hilted inside her. She tried to hold on, but it was all too much. He held her, staying put inside her when she contracted around him. He let her recover and kissed her before he began moving. He led her into a slow and gentle dance of desire. The patience she’d so often admired in him was shown in his attention to detail and his determination to make their perfect moment last.

There was a knock at the door. “Marshal Trahearne! Are you awake? We need you!”

“Rotten timing,” Trahearne muttered. “I’ll be out momentarily!” he yelled back.

He returned his attention to what he was doing. “I’m sorry but we need to speed things up.”

They quickened their pace to get closer to release. Their breaths grew shallow and their movements turned desperate as they chased their peak, finally finding it together. She vowed to herself that she would forever remember the look on his face when he came. He was then even more carefree and happy than in his sleep.

He took a few deep breaths and kissed her. “I have no words to describe how happy you make me,” he said. “I am sorry that I have to go so soon. I would have liked to hold you.”

“I understand. You can hold me later,” she promised. “I should probably get dressed and come with you to see what that was about.”

\--

Two sylvari unknown to Cérea were waiting for the Pact troops at their destination.

“Tegwen, Carys. It is good to see you again,” Trahearne greeted them. “I don’t believe you have met the commander yet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cérea said and got smiles as a reply.

“The valiants have supplied the artifact we needed to lure out the Eyes of Zhaitan: an enchanted mirror that allows one to spy on Orr,” Trahearne explained.

“I’m glad to be rid of it,” Tegwen said with a grimace. “The last time I used it, I was transported here.”

“Where I rescued her,” Carys said. “Well, helped Trahearne rescue her.”

Cérea gave Trahearne a look. He did get around. When did he have time to do all the things he’d done? Her train of thought was interrupted when she felt the presence of the undead. It was an unsettling feeling, no matter how often she experienced it.

“Stand ready, everyone,” Trahearne said. “I feel Zhaitan’s influence closing on us. Whatever draws near is deadly.”

The floating eye came near and stared into the mirror. Why it would want to look at something as ugly as itself, Cérea had no idea. Probably it was the appeal of mirrors – you never saw anyone passing a reflecting surface without at least a glance.

“You cannot hide, you cannot surprise me. I see all. Zhaitan’s gaze cannot be avoided. Your mirror belongs to the dragon. Soon, all will belong to the dragon,” the creature went on.

“The mirror’s responding to his commands!” Tegwen yelled. “He’s activating a portal!”

“Attack! Stop him, or we’ll have an entire risen army out here!” Trahearne commanded.

While Cérea swung her greatsword at the risen she wondered why her siblings had called the eye “he” without a second thought. Did such a creature have a gender? Wouldn’t it be better to call it, well, “it”? Not that it mattered, she was simply curious.

The risen were easily taken care of, but the Eye of Zhaitan was less than impressed. “Feeble. You’ll never defeat me or the dragon.”

“No good,” Tegwen said, “it’s drawing power from the mirror!”

Not it’s an “it”? Cérea wandered, but told herself to focus on more important things.

“Together, you may be strong, but I will weaken you,” the eye said. “Come… Zhaitan’s army waits to absorb you.”

There was a discomfiting sensation that made Cérea’s head hurt.

“It’s pulling us in,” Trahearne told them. “The mirror is blocking my magic – I can’t stop him! I can blunt the effect, but-”

Cérea turned to look at Trahearne, worried by the abrupt end to his sentence, but he was nowhere to be found. Actually, no one was there to be found. She was standing alone in a gloomy, unfamiliar place. Unfamiliar was probably not the right word, though. She was clearly in Orr. Alone. In Orr. She put those two together and came to the obvious conclusion.

“Yep, I’m gonna die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it hard to motivate myself to write about the lvl 80 personal story stuff because I find it kind of boring. Plus, there isn't much room for creative input, but I'm trying.
> 
> I don't know about you, but I think that Trahearne would be into tantric sex. I hope I didn't traumatize you too much.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feedback!


End file.
